


Driving Alex Crazy

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-05
Updated: 2001-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:03:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Driving Alex Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Driving Alex Crazy by Sebastian and Dr. Ruthless, with assistance from Niffusa and Shadowfox

TITLE: Driving Alex Crazy  
AUTHORS: Sebastian and Dr. Ruthless, with assistance from Niffusa and Shadowfox.  
LOCATION: Washington DC and the road to Baltimore.  
DISCLAIMER: These characters are not ours with the exception of agent Mucho, who makes up for a heck of a lot. We feel that she's more than enough woman for anyone.  
NOTES: The story was written by a complicated process of role-playing. The cast of participants is as follows:  
    Mulder- Sebastian   
    Krycek- Dr. Ruthless   
    Scully- Shadowfox   
    Agent Bessie-Mae Mucho- Niffusa   
    Anyone else- whoever happened to be handy at the time.   
SPOILERS: Not even one.  
Feedback to and to   
ARCHIVE: Fight Club and personal sites only.  
Thanks to Candace for beta. 

* * *

Driving Alex Crazy  
by Sebastian and Dr. Ruthless, with assistance from Niffusa and Shadowfox.

Fox Mulder had been deep in concentration - so deep that Dana Scully had been unable to attract his attention all day. The conference that seemed to be taking up all his time lately loomed. There were only a couple of days left, and Mulder had postponed writing his presentation until the last minute. 

Bored, and not a little annoyed at Mulder's behavior in general lately, Scully decided to try for some conversation one last time. 

She took a deep breath and went for the gold. 

"So, Mulder..." 

"Yes?" Mulder looked up. Scully had a rather irritated expression... he wondered what he'd done this time. 

"How's that new girlfriend of yours?" The inquiry was pitched mildly, but the words made no sense. Mulder raised hunted eyes to look at Scully, shook his head in negation and looked again. 

"Uh...what girlfriend?" he said, blankly. 

Scully glared at her partner. He seemed to be sincere, but one never knew with Mulder; he was a law unto himself. She frowned, and began enunciating the attractions of the woman she'd seen with Mulder every time she'd turned around over the past few days. 

"Hmm. Let me see. Tall... brunette... legs up to there." Her hand indicated an area level with her own chin. "The girl you were with the other night... ring a bell?" 

Mulder's air of mild bafflement cleared as he realized just who Scully was talking about. 

"You wouldn't be referring to AgentMucho would you?" he asked, pleased that he'd solved at least one puzzle today. "I hadn't noticed her hair. Her qualifications are impressive." 

Scully considered the last time she'd watched the two of them together. Mulder hadn't seemed to be aware of Mucho's charms particularly, though on reflection Mucho had been so blatant, even he couldn't have missed her come-on. 

"Yes, I saw you two getting pretty cozy. So... dish me!" 

Mulder puzzled over Scully's remark. Mucho had certainly been pleasingly interested in his opinions, but he'd suspected she hadn't had the time to be frightened off by his reputation yet. 

"She has some interesting views on... things. It's good to get close to a sympathetic listener, for a change." 

"Hey, I'll have you know that I have been very sympathetic of late! What about that creepy snake preacher? And the... the... well, I have anyway!" 

"Really?" Mulder was wrinkling his forehead in the kind of 'homeless puppy' expression that made Scully want to brain him with his own stapler. "I hadn't noticed. It must be me then. I've been busy. Skinner asked me to break her in. She's been rather hard going." 

Scully's jaw dropped. Did he really mean what he'd just said, or was he just winding her up? Her voice faltered as she posed the question. "Break her in? Break her in how?" 

"Oh, you know, show her the ropes, Scully." Mulder had noticed her confusion, and smiled an evil smile. "Introduce her to a few useful techniques." His voice began to ooze innuendo. 

"Gee, Mulder." Scully's response was tart. "I thought she already knew how to use a set of handcuffs." 

With the mention of handcuffs, Mulder's thoughts turned to Alex, and his visit a few nights back. 

"But it takes practice to use them with flair, Scully," he purred, a hot shiver passing through him. Scully looked at him askance. Jeez, she thought, what sort of videos has he got now? 

"I must have missed the class on subduing suspects with flair," she said, tartly. "Are you going to have that paper finished in time for it to be worth your while attending this conference?" Mulder dragged his mind back to work. 

"Yeah Scully, and I get to go with Agent Mucho. She's going to help me polish my prose en route..." He looked Scully up and down. He'd noticed that Scully's attitude to the new agent had been less than helpful, and wondered if she was feeling her age. New recruits... it was hard not to feel jaded sometimes. On the other hand, it could be envy of those long legs she'd mentioned. "I've noticed that you could do with subduing yourself, Scully. You haven't been very kind to her." 

"And your point?" The sarcasm in Scully's voice was withering. Any minute now, Mulder reflected, she'd be giving him 'expression number 3' - the one that was guaranteed to make him feel like a dirty five year old. He was about to appeal to her better nature when an unfortunate diversion occurred. 

There was a gentle rap on the door and it opened, a cloud of musky perfume preceding the visitor. Agent Mucho slinked in. Yes that was definitely a slink, thought Mulder. He studied her. She's got that down to quite an art, he decided. 

"Agent Mulder, I brought the file for the... Oh, I'm sorry. Are you busy?" She smiled at Mulder, ignoring Scully. That uptight partner of his had no appreciation of the sexy guy whose office she shared, but Bessie was aware of his potential. 

Scully spoke sharply, "Yes..." But to Bessie and Mulder she had ceased to exist. She fumed. 

Meanwhile Mulder was looking at Bessie through new eyes. She has quite the body, he thought. No wonder Scully's bitchy about her, though she's always odd when I get near an attractive woman. He grinned stupidly and said, "Never too busy for you, Mucho. Thanks for the file." 

Agent Mucho moved closer to Mulder and fixed him with her big-eyed stare. Her perfume wafted round him and he could almost feel the heat from her body as she stood nearby. This could get difficult really quickly, he thought. He cleared his throat nervously, not sure whether to back off and hide behind his desk for safety. Thankfully her question brought a respite. 

"Have you decided what your dissertation will be yet?" 

"More than decided - it's nearly done." 

Scully couldn't believe her eyes as she witnessed Mucho's maneuvers. What a... a hussy. Impertinent, insolent, and she had Mulder virtually drooling down her cleavage. She coughed loudly. 

"Agent, if you could excuse us? We were in the middle of a private conversation." 

Agent Mucho was batting her lashes at Mulder. I hope they come unglued, thought Scully, viciously. 

"Agent Mulder, it's going to be so fascinating." Had the red-haired dwarf spoken? Bessie wasn't sure. She dragged her eyes away from Mulder's face and turned to Scully. Looking down on Scully's head she said politely, "I'm sorry?" 

Surely the woman has some work to do, thought Scully. 

"Agent Mucho...don't you have somewhere to be?" 

Emboldened by Scully's hostility and Mulder's confusion, Agent Bessie Mae Mucho reached out a slender hand and fondled Mulder's lapel. Mulder knew now it was too late, that was the final straw. What the hell? he thought, Scully's going to blow up anyway, and it can't do me any harm to indulge in a little mild flirtation. Half the guys in the department have got the hots for her, if the talk in the men's room is anything to go by. It would be interesting to be an object of envy for a while. 

"Scully, we can spare a little time for Mucho," he murmured. 

"I'm going to be working late tonight if you want... inspiration," Bessie cooed. 

"Very kind..." 

Inspiration, thought Scully. Inspiration! I know what sort of thoughts you inspire, you slut. She was feeling somewhat inspired herself... maybe to throw Agent Mucho out of a window. What a shame the office was in the basement. 

"I don't think so... Excuse us, AGENT!" 

"I was just leaving, Agent Scully," said Mucho smugly, her gaze never wavering from Mulder's. 

"I'm sure I could do with a little help on my paper, and Scully's always so busy." 

Bessie stroked his lapel one last time and gave him a slow smile, her glossy lips hinting at the sort of help she could provide. She turned to the door, throwing back her hair with a graceful tossand stalked out, every movement a masterpiece of feminine sensuality. 

"Later, Agent Mulder," she purred, as the door closed behind her. 

Describing the expression on Mulder's face as a leer was being more than charitable, Scully thought, sickened. 

"Get help on your own time, Mulder," she said caustically. 

"Don't you remember when you were new to this, Scully?" rejoined Mulder, his face as seemingly innocent as a babe. 

"And get your brain out of your dick!" continued his redheaded partner. "I was never that new!" 

"Oh, don't get bitchy." The protest fell from Mulder's lips, but faded as Agent Mucho undulated back into the room, all her assets apparently moving with independent rhythm. His gaze clung to her form as though attached by superglue. "...It... er... doesn't suit you," he mumbled, fascinated. Scully, whose back had been to the door, didn't immediately perceive the invasion. 

"Now what?" she snapped, then turned around and saw that her least favorite agent had reappeared. 

"Oh Agent Mulder?" the voluptuous young woman cooed, before turning to hand Scully a fisheye stare. Scully stared right back at her, willing her to spontaneously combust. 

Mulder appeared oblivious to this by-play, though he gave a small shudder that could have been the result of watching the effects of gravity on Agent Mucho's impressive cleavage. 

"Did you need me, Mucho?" he said, ignoring Scully, who was now muttering something about wanting to find her gun. 

"Oh, yes." She smiled, her bosom heaving with apparent joy. "Um... AD Skinner wanted me to ask you if your proposal is complete yet. He wants to see it before he can okay the expenses." Her tones were apologetic as she relayed a message that Mulder had no doubt had been given by Skinner in a much more caustic fashion. 

"I know it's here somewhere..." Scully declared, still casting about for her gun. 

"I could take it to him for you if you like?" continued Mucho, disregarding the threat of 'time bomb Scully' as she fluttered her lashes at Mulder, who fluttered right back in sympathy. 

"Let's get together later and talk about my presentation," he said, scrabbling about on his desk for the offending report. Scully snorted. 

"You do that, Fox Mulder, and I will shoot you someplace vital!" she muttered, not quite inaudibly. 

Mucho favored Scully with a superior smile and moved back into the room to stand next to Mulder, invading his body space and causing his foolish grin to reappear. 

"I'll see you later on, okay?" she said, throatily, and then turned and left, carrying her victory over Scully like a flag. 

"Thank goodness!" muttered Scully, exasperated. Mulder glared at her. "God, I hate Barbie dolls!" 

"She's a brunette, Scully," offered Mulder mildly. She sniffed. 

"They make brunette ones, Mulder." 

"Really?" He grinned at her. "My last one was blonde... No, forget I said that." Scully growled, her sense of humor apparently missing in action that day. "Cut her some slack, Scully," he said, his tone oozing superiority. 

"Slack? Dream on! She can't even fill out a form right!" Scully was indignant. 

"There's a lot more to her than her appearance." 

"Sure there is. That's why you drool every time she gets within 10 feet of you. You're like Pavlov's dog. Admit it!" Scully was well into her speech, pontificating as she strode about the room. Mulder put out a hand as she passed him by and turned her to face him. 

"Scully," he said, mildly. "You chauvinist!" 

"I just call it like I see it, Mulder," was the angry retort. 

"Anyway, she's much more ornamental than Skinner," Mulder mused. 

"Don't go there," she snapped, and tore her eyes away from Mulder's face, with its searching eyes and its knowing grin. 

Mulder had tired of baiting her. "C'mon. I've got work to do. My paper calls." She sighed. She would never win. He was just too damned insouciant. Shrugging her shoulders, she attempted to appear interested in Mulder's latest obsession. 

"So what's it about?" 

"The conference?" Mulder grinned lazily at her. "New Age Philosophy and Law Enforcement. I thought you knew... Or do you mean my paper? Or maybe you're interested in agent Mucho's?" 

Scully's jaw dropped. "Mucho's presenting a paper, Mulder?" Her right hand fondled the handle of her pistol as she contemplated saving the world from this unlikely prospect. 

"Mucho did a study of palmistry in relation to criminal tendencies." Mulder launched into an exposition of the - to him - fascinating subject of alternative detection methods. 

"She did?" There was menace in Scully's voice, and she cracked her knuckles in an ominously unladylike manner. Mulder, unconcerned, babbled on as he warmed to his topic. 

"She's interested in alternative detection methods, as well," he declared, ingenuously. 

"She is?" Scully balled her fists while Mulder continued, sublimely unaware of his closeness to death. Mulder tapped busily on his keyboard, peering intently at the monitor, then rolled back on his chair, spinning to face his partner. 

"I'm discussing the history of the use of clairvoyants in searches by the police," he said brightly, waving at the screen. "Want to read it?" 

Scully's own formidable bosom rose within the severe suit that restrained it. Drawing in deep calming breaths she grasped at the opening Mulder had provided. Despite her utter disbelief in the virtue of such methods she peered over at the text and forced out the lie. "Well, it is a very interesting subject..." She began to read. 

"I suspect she's psychic, but I can't pin her down. She won't open up to me." 

Puzzled by this random remark and with her attention still focused on the paper Scully murmured, "Who's psychic?" 

"Mucho, Scully," he explained in a patient tone, inwardly amused, wondering just how far Scully's antagonism would drive her. 

It took Scully a couple of seconds to register just what he had said. She turned to the man at her side, her blue eyes flashing as she snapped, "WHAT??? Mulder, that is reaching, even for you! However, I'm sure you have absolutely no problem pinning her down or opening her UP! I'm sure she does her best work under those very conditions!" 

Oh-hoo - that was good! "SCULLY! Shame on you!" he scolded. Pushing himself back from her he got up and walked to the bookcase. "Her thought processes are very interesting. She knows just what I'm thinking," he remarked with apparent innocence. Only the Criminal Psychology tomes could see the mischievous grin. 

"I'm sure that she does, Mulder. That isn't hard, considering that your only thought is to get her undressed as quickly as possible..." She sneered. Men! Sometimes she wondered how they avoided tripping over those drooling tongues. 

It suddenly occurred to Mulder that teasing Scully was fun, but it was going to make life unpleasant for Agent Mucho. The new agent, though playful, had a serious side and had a deep knowledge of many subjects. "You ought to try her, yourself. You'd be surprised," he said sincerely, scanning the shelves for an elusive book, but it was too late to recover his position; the damage had already been done. 

"No thank you," retorted Scully, waspishly. "I have no idea where she's been... and Mom always told us not to trust people like that." 

Mulder's analytical brain registered the tone and dissected it. Jealousy... frustration... envy. It wasn't the sort of insight that he normally had, but this time it was as plain as a pikestaff. Scully needed to get laid. However, he wasn't sure what Scully had implied by that last remark. 

"Like what?" he asked. 

Slowly and carefully Scully enunciated, "She...is...a...slut, Mulder. How do you think she got this far in the Bureau? It wasn't because of her IQ... and by the way, they're not real..." 

That was too much. No matter what her feelings about Mucho, Mulder couldn't believe that Scully would voice such unfounded and spiteful allegations. He frowned angrily and walked out the door, saying, "Have it your own way. I'm going to the library." 

The door slammed behind him, but there was no sound of receding footsteps. After a minute the door-handle turned and Mulder sidled back into the office. 

"How can you possibly know that?" he inquired, diffidently. 

Scully pursed her lips and drew her head back. How well she knew him. How easy he was to hook. Raising her eyebrows superciliously she said, "Come on, Mulder. Real ones don't stand up when you lay down." 

Mulder wasn't at all sure what to think of this revelation. He said suspiciously, "When have you seen her lying down, Scully?" 

Scully smiled knowingly. Two can play this game, Fox Mulder, she thought viciously. "Why should I tell you? You've been nothing but evil to me lately..." 

Mulder's libido crept up on his imagination and gave it a swift kick. "I...I...Um..." he stuttered as an image drifted into his mind, vivid, technicolored, with full surround sound. And Dolby. 

Agent Mucho was draped elegantly across Scully's desk. One long leg lifted, bent, the tight skirt pushed up, the sharp stiletto digging into the desktop as the leg swayed giving tantalizing glimpses of her smooth golden thigh framed by a lacy garter belt and panties. 

Scully, bent over the other woman, voluptuously working her full lips against Mucho's scarlet mouth and slowly unbuttoning her silky blouse, prying her tiny, elegant fingers between the delicate white lace of Mucho's brassiere and the full, round firmness of one of those juicy breasts. Scully's forefinger rubbing gently on the nipple, hardening the teat until its shape was clearly visible against the taut fabric. Soft moans coming from the prone woman as she caught Scully's hand and drew it lower... 

A knock broke into his reverie. Mulder swallowed. Hot damn, his imagination was a wonderful thing. Mentally he bookmarked his fantasy, and dragged his mind back to reality and to Skinner, whose bald head had just appeared around the door. 

Hell, the financial report! He desperately cast his eyes around for it, but his mind was already returning to Agent Mucho's charms. As Skinner's bombast faded into the background he realized with a thud that he'd have to postpone the inspiration she'd promised that evening, he'd double-booked. He already had a date with Krycek at eight, and somehow he didn't think Agent Mucho was the sort of girl who would ever play gooseberry. 

-oo00oo- 

The bar where Mulder and Krycek had arranged to meet that evening was noisy and crowded. Mulder never knew whether Krycek would show up for their assignations, his profession had a myriad of unpredictabilities. In some ways it made the relationship more edgy, exciting, but underneath, though he wouldn't admit it to himself, and certainly not to Alex, was the worry that his rat might have come to a sticky end. 

As he checked his watch for the tenth time a hard body pressed against his back and a hand slid down his hip. A puff of breath kissed his right ear and a familiar voice whispered, 

"You're looking lonely. Waiting for someone?" 

Mulder leant back against the other man's chest. Every time he met Alex his feelings surprised him, and he remembered anew why the risk was worth taking. 

"Maybe. You looking for someone?" 

Alex Krycek smiled briefly, and his voice dropped until it was barely audible. Mulder felt his knees turn wobbly. 

"I could be, given the right incentive." 

"I could offer you a drink..." Mulder had never been able to approach the husky sensuality of vocal style that came naturally to Krycek. Even so, he could tell that his response was having an effect on the other... that is, unless there really was a gun in his pocket. 

Krycek pushed in against Mulder, crowding him against the bar and letting him know for sure that he was looking good. 

"Sounds good. Gimme a Bud..." He favored the bartender with an inscrutable look as his beer was brought. "Don't worry about the glass." 

Mulder wriggled uncomfortably and reached around to find his wallet. No matter where he put his hands, they seemed to be full of aroused assassin, and he felt himself rising to the occasion. 

"You'll have to back off. You're so close I can't get my hand in my pocket for my money." 

Krycek smiled sardonically at him. He enjoyed seeing Mulder in full FBI glory, getting flustered. 

"Well, excuse me. Who's been pissing in your beer?" 

Mulder finally managed to extract his money and paid the bartender. Handing Krycek a chilled bottle he said wryly, "You're not the one who has to write a damn stupid presentation. I've been sweating over it all day." 

"Thanks." With a slight smile Krycek put the bottle to his lips and licked the rim slowly. Sucking it into his mouth he mimed the blowjob he had in mind for Mulder in the not too distant future. Mulder frowned at him, embarrassed. 

Taking pity on the blushing agent he pulled the bottle from his lips and asked, "What presentation?" 

"Some conference..." Mulder was eyeing the bottleneck in Krycek's hands with a fascination that made Krycek's lips quirk upward in spite of themselves. "Stop doing that, would you?" He shuddered visibly as he tried to straighten out his thoughts. "It's all Skinner's idea." 

Krycek grinned at his discomfiture and put the bottle down on the bar. "When are you going? What will you do with Scully?" He grinned to himself at the idea of the small redhead being hung in a cupboard somewhere to await Mulder's return. Mulder, torn between the intimacy of feeling the other man pressed up against him and the possibility of being seen by someone he wouldn't like, moved uneasily. 

"Why don't we find a booth, where it's quieter, and I'll tell you." Without waiting for an answer, he began to push his way through the room. Krycek allowed Mulder to take the lead and the two of them slid into seats in a booth at the back of the bar. 

"Come on then, Mulder, I can see it's burning holes in your consciousness. What's the big deal with this conference?" 

Mulder shrugged. "It's a bore, but Skinner thinks it'll be good for PR." 

Krycek wondered at Skinner's optimism in thinking anything Mulder said in public could be good PR for the Bureau, and Mulder's evident belief that he was right. With a mocking smile he said, "Oh, PR, is it? What's it about?" 

As he watched Mulder shrugging out of his coat and loosening his tie, he unconsciously fellated the bottleneck, imagining Mulder continuing to disrobe... until he sat naked in the opposite seat. Mulder's eyes narrowed, and suddenly Krycek felt a shoeless foot rubbing the side of his shin, the toes massaging the muscle sensuously. 

"Are you trying to distract me, Mulder? It's working." Mulder lowered lazy eyelids, measuring the effect he appeared to be having on the other man. 

"Mmm, a little maybe." The foot crept higher. "I just felt like, well... It's this new agent... Did I tell you about her?" Toes began to probe in between Krycek's thighs. 

Krycek put down his bottle and sat forward, spreading his legs. He started to speak, and then cleared his throat and started over. "No." There was a second's pause and then, "Wait a minute, 'her'?" 

Leaning forward himself, Mulder whispered mischievously, "Are you wearing your button-up jeans?" 

Krycek did a perfect spit take. "Mulder, what...?" His hand moved down under the table to take hold of the questing foot and pull it up a little higher. Mulder grinned, licked his lips and ran his toes over the buttons. 

Krycek had sometimes worried about Mulder's fetish with his button fly jeans but he wasn't about to discourage the effect they had. Today, however, Mulder might not get to pop them himself, because if he got much harder the damn things were going to rip themselves right off. Even breathing was becoming a little difficult. 

"Yeah. I mean... yeah." Christ, in a bar... "Mulder..." Well he wasn't going to argue. He leant back to give the toes a bit of space to perform. 

Mulder pretended not to notice Krycek's gasps and flushed face and said blandly, "I don't think Scully likes her." 

The toes traced the straining bulge in Krycek's jeans, pressing and probing. Krycek struggled to produce a coherent sentence. 

"Mulder, that doesn't amaze me. Scully doesn't like anyone." Finally giving in to the need that only Mulder seemed to drive him to, he gulped. "Are you anxious to hear me beg?" 

"What for?" Mulder asked, ingenuously. "A description of the new agent? My conversation with Scully?" 

Krycek was beginning to twitch a little around the hips, and glared at the bland expression on his lover's face as the sensations began to take hold of him. 

"Jesus, Mulder. Do I look as if I care?" His voice, always husky, was a sultry growl. "Oh, fuck, yes, do that!" 

Mulder whispered, his words calculated to make the other man shiver, "Get the buttons. My toes can't manage them." 

Krycek licked dry lips and reached down shaky hands to oblige, just as the waitress came over. Leaning forward a little he tried to alert his tormentor. 

"Mulder..." But Mulder continued his ministrations, smiling innocently, leaving Alex to talk with the waitress. "Oh, good grief," he muttered under his breath, trying to gather his thoughts enough to place an order. 

"Uh, yeah... ah... need... uh, can we get... Nachos. That's it. Sour cream on the side... Thanks." 

Discovering he now had free passage into Krycek's jeans, the toes began to insinuate themselves inside. Mulder suppressed a laugh at Alex's expression, saying, "And more beer... My friend's a little hot." 

Krycek fumbled his jacket off and hurriedly dropped it into his lap, saying the first words that came into his head as the waitress disinterestedly walked away. 

"Yeah, it's warm. Very warm." 

"Your laundry bill must be extortionate, Alex," whispered Mulder, happily fondling the beleaguered double agent. He grinned at the confused expression that evoked. "Never any underwear." 

"What?" Words had ceased to carry meaning for poor Alex. His voice floated up, a faint combination of lust and fear. "Uh... M-Mulder, please..." 

"The sock, Alex," was the reply. Mulder's face had taken on a greedy, feral expression. He knew that the other man was under his complete control. When Alex raised hazy eyes to his, he spoke again, carefully enunciating each word. "Pull it off." 

Within seconds the sock was history, and Alex was looking vainly for somewhere to put it. His shaky hands turned it over a couple of times, despairingly, before finally laying it on the table to take its chances with the nachos. Mulder sniggered. He was tempted to leave the sock, and point it out to Alex later, but thought better of it. He grabbed it and dropped it on the floor near his shoe. 

It was definitely time - more than time, to join in. He surreptitiously unzipped himself and then reached out his bare foot to try a little skin-to-skin contact. Krycek's cock almost burned his toes and the pulse throbbed strongly under his touch. He looked at Krycek. The man's face was a picture of abandoned bliss. His own cock twitched at the sight. 

"Hmm, very hot," he murmured. 

Giving himself up to the moment, Krycek's eyes closed. He was feeling good, very good. The constant pressure of Mulder's toes was having an incredible effect on him. He was really getting into it when Mulder's next words permeated his consciousness with a jolt. 

"Now if I had some ice..." Krycek's eyes flew open to take in Mulder. First he made sure that there was no ice to be seen, and then he studied the rest of Mulder. His lover sat, his right hand below the table working busily, and he had a truly silly smirk on his face. 

"Mulder, I want that!" His voice was plaintive, and Mulder, toes wiggling, didn't at first look to see what he meant. 

"Uh...beer?" His eyes were half shut and he really didn't seem to be taking too much notice. 

Krycek looked around but saw no-one watching. "Fuck it," he said and slid gracefully under the table. 

"Hey, stop," hissed Mulder, startled. His glance swept round the room. Had anyone noticed? "The waitress could come back." 

Krycek grinned to himself as he wriggled into position between Mulder's legs and nuzzled into his crotch. 

"C'mon Mulder," he whispered. "You can keep her busy. I'll be back in a minute..." 

Mulder found his hand displaced from his fly as a warm head forced its way insistently into his lap. He was in two minds whether to push it away or pull it nearer. 

"Damn! I was trying to be discreet," he muttered, but suddenly Krycek's mouth engulfed him and his words tailed off into an incoherent gurgle. 

That decided it. Of its own accord his hand crept round the sleek, dark head and pulled it closer. 

The sound of Krycek's enthusiastic ministrations seemed so loud to Mulder that he could have sworn everyone could hear above the hubbub in the bar. He wriggled, trying to detach the busy lips that were giving him so much pleasure. A couple of foreign curse words emanated from the depths. 

He wanted this. Boy did he want it, but it was damned risky. He bit his lip, reluctantly saying "Stop, damn it." 

A snigger drifted up from beneath the table, and a disbelieving and somewhat mocking voice said, "You don't want me to, Mulder? Why?" before those lips reattached themselves to Mulder's dick with the determination of a particularly diligent leech. 

Mulder looked around furtively, attempting to see if there was anyone watching his discomfiture. 

"Did I say I didn't want you to?" he hissed. 

At that moment, as Krycek gave a small choke of laughter around his hard-on and reapplied himself to sucking Mulder's brains out of the end, the waitress reappeared, bearing a wicker tray on which were piled the nachos they had ordered. There was the faintest of mumbles from below the table, indistinct and incoherent, and then mercifully the rat lapsed into a faintly sticky silence again. The waitress plonked her offering down on the table, adding bowls of sour cream and salsa to the feast as Mulder gazed at her, pink faced and pleading. 

"That will be seven dollars sir." 

"Uh, uh..." He was sure that there were things that he could say to make her go away, but he was damned if he could think of any right at this minute. 

"Sir?" She was idly buffing her nails, and apparently hadn't noticed anything in the least bit odd about him. Mulder groped wildly in his jacket, tipping the contents of a pocket onto the table. At last he located his wallet, and handed her ten dollars, just as Alex began to get creative with the head of his cock. 

The waitress was busy flicking little pieces of fluff off her sleeve. She yawned, and Mulder gestured her away thankfully, attempting to remain still, and not slide down to offer more of himself to the hot and inventive mouth that was attacking him. 

"Thanks sir, I'll be right back with your change." 

"No, no, keep it." He could hear the sound of desperation in his own voice. How she missed it, he had no idea, but miss it she did. 

"Thank you sir," she said disinterestedly, and hurried off to collect her next order. Mulder grabbed a paper napkin and held it against his mouth, attempting to stifle his groans. 

He couldn't believe he was permitting Alex to go through with this, but on the other hand, trying to stop him would probably have been still more embarrassing. The feel of Alex's hands caressing his balls and that wicked mouth sucking him in so deep was unbelievable, irresistible. 

The pressure was building in his body, the pulsing heat in his dick as Alex's mouth and throat massaged him, squeezed him. He reached beneath the table to grab Alex's head with both hands, slumping in the seat as the sounds of the bar became distant and unimportant. 

The lips and tongue swirled over his cockhead and then plunged down hard, pulling back and thrusting down into his groin. His eyes squeezed shut as he gave himself up to Alex, to blissful pleasure. 

The napkin at his mouth became a thing of all consuming importance. He knew that his eyes were bugging out and he tried wholeheartedly not to yell. Krycek's mouth was hot and silken against him, and pleasure was a creature he could feel move inside him, coiling and snaking through his thighs, sparking along his skin to shiver within his balls. In a few more seconds, he knew that it was too late to do anything except hang on, and tense, and pump as he tried not to scream. 

His muscles had locked, and his breathing was a procedure that he needed to work on; something seemed to be wrong with it. Looking down as he gradually began to regain some voluntary motor control, he realized that he should probably let go of Krycek's hair before the man had a bald spot. He spat out pieces of the napkin he'd apparently chewed to ribbons, and relaxed. He was as limp now as he'd ever been, and prepared to give Krycek anything in the world that he wanted. 

Krycek didn't appear immediately. When he slowly made it back above the table, he looked more than a little flushed. 

Mulder gazed at him, still recovering, his own eyes heavy lidded and his mouth lax. 

"Hey," his own whisper was hoarse. "It was my turn. You did me in the park, yesterday." 

As his higher brain functions scrabbled for purchase, the reason he'd started the footsie session leapt back into his memory. He'd promised his lover revenge... revenge for ambushing him during his morning run, dragging him into the shrubbery and having his wicked way. Mulder had been searching for exercise, but that hadn't been quite what he'd had in mind. 

Krycek was looking at him fixedly, his gaze rapt, desperate. "Oh, god you're hot," he growled. Alex was ready for anything, hoping Mulder would oblige... and quickly, but Mulder was giving him an odd look, a look that could spell trouble. He leant back, swallowing nervously. Sometimes Mulder could be a little too inventive. He gave a fleeting grin. 

"Please, don't let me keep you..." Perhaps a little distraction would work..." I wish you'd let me spend the night." 

Mulder smiled, and looked appraisingly at his lover who was deliciously squirming with need for him. 

"I'm not getting down there in this suit," he said haughtily, raising a supercilious eyebrow. "And if you want to spend the night, well, I'll have to take Scully's key back." 

Anything, anything would do... the foot, where was that foot? Krycek tried to hook it with his own, and then peered under the table, making a grab for it. 

"Dammit," he muttered, "You were doing just fine..." 

"You want the foot?" laughed Mulder. 

"You have a foot to give me, Mulder?" he snarled, giving Mulder a fierce grin. "I want it." 

Mulder reached for the salsa, smearing chilli sauce idly with his index finger, and then applying it to his toes. Stretching out his long leg, he grabbed for Krycek's cock, spreading the sauce onto sensitive tissues. 

"How's that?" 

"Oh, fucking hell." Krycek had turned purple, and tears were springing to his eyes as he suffered Mulder's attentions. 

Mulder had found his rhythm, and was rubbing gently with his toes as Krycek squirmed in his seat, half horrified and half in desperate need of more. It stung. It hurt. It was like a thousand angry ants on his swollen flesh, and yet... He bit his lip and moaned. 

Mulder, grinning at him with altogether too much good humor, beckoned the waitress over once more. She smiled as she approached their booth, doubtless recalling Mulder's propensity for tipping. 

"What can I get you, sir?" 

Eyes glittering fiendishly, Mulder fixed Krycek with a malicious expression of glee. 

"Some iced water, please." Krycek viewed her with the kind of expression one usually saw on a rabbit caught in the glare of headlights. 

The waitress moved away purposefully, returning with the water. Krycek was by this time trying not to scream as the toes continued to invade him. His cock felt as if it were growing blisters. 

Mulder lifted a nacho to his lips and slowly nibbled at it, watching his lover in a spirit of scientific detachment. Apparently satisfied with the reaction he'd provoked, he decided to try a new stimulus on his test subject. He popped an ice cube into his mouth and sucked on it thoughtfully 

Krycek looked apprehensively at this procedure. What had Mulder got in mind? He wouldn't... 

But he would. An ice cube disappeared beneath the table. Mulder gripped it in his other foot where it could be securely held by his sock, and stroked it across Alex's dick. 

Had he ever heard an assassin squeak before? If he had, he couldn't recall it. And who would have thought Alex could achieve such a high pitch? What was he trying to say? 

"Mulder." 

Uh-huh. He was definitely trying to attract attention. 

"What... Aahh!" 

Was that pleasure or pain? Difficult to tell. Well, you ought to consider your subjects' feelings, he supposed. You could lose your license to experiment if you didn't. With an insincere smirk he said, "Um, sorry...something wrong?" 

"You're killing me..." 

Well, that was surely an exaggeration, though one couldn't rule out the possibility of a coronary. The stress involved in being a professional murderer must be immense. 

"Aahh... Oh, god!" A sob. That was a sob. Fuck the suit. This delicate operation required more precision than the most skilled toes could achieve. 

"Maybe I ought to risk the floor, huh?" he said, and reassuring himself that the room's attention was elsewhere he was suddenly gone, disappearing under the table as if by magic. 

Krycek was lost in the scorching, sizzling pinpricks that were dancing over the head of his cock. If he'd been at home, he'd have been trying to wash the stuff off, anything to stop the stinging heat. But sitting here, having to endure it, having to concentrate on it to stop himself shrieking, the pain was transmuting itself into something other, something that was making his need for release spiral out of control. There was little of Alex left - just a frenzied flame of desire. 

Speechless and red faced, hardly able to comprehend his surroundings, he could only grunt. 

In the dark intimacy beneath the tabletop, Mulder at last felt safe from observation, free to enjoy his lover fully. Homing in on Alex's cock in the gloom by its delicious musk, the drug that could reel him in and turn him into a mindless whore, he crouched on his hands and knees and extended his tongue towards the twitching member. His tongue slid over the juicy tip where its swollen bulk had eased back the foreskin, then licked and bathed the shaft, as he glutted himself on the addictive smell of the other man, trapped and concentrated in the warm darkness of the tiny den. Stretching his lips wide he engulfed the hard length, shivering with delight at the sensation of its bulk invading him as he abased himself at the feet of his dangerous beloved. 

A husky voice drifted down from above, "Oh, yeah..." Mulder counted to ten, waiting for the chilli to kick in. Right on cue, the voice punched in, harsh and high. "Oh, no," and then higher still. "Oh, god!" 

"Wanna pass the ice?" slurred Mulder from around his mouthful. 

"Shit, Mulder." That voice of his was really something, thought Mulder to himself as the ice appeared under the table incredibly fast. Krycek gave a thin, reedy scream that fortunately was lost in the general hubbub as the double agent began to appreciate why Mexicans dance the Salsa. 

There were crunching sounds as Mulder worked below the table, and then suddenly he reapplied his now arctic mouth to his victim's tenderest portions. He ran his hands over Krycek's thighs, sensing from the trembling that he would explode in the next few minutes. 

Krycek, lacking Mulder's worry about being seen getting blown in public, spread his legs as wide as he could, and slumped down into the seat. 

"Oh, yeah, just there, Mulder... MULDER!" and Mulder, warming to his task as his lover's pleas became more frantic sucked hard, applying his hand to the base of his penis, while he ran his tongue around the crown, dipping it into the eye from which welled ever-increasing amounts of moisture. 

Krycek's fingers were sunk into the plastic of the bench, tearing lumps out of it as he tried to conceal his pleasure, and his agony. 

"Just a little harder," he gritted though clenched teeth. "I'm there, I'm so close." 

Anything to oblige, thought Mulder. He sucked harder, beginning to rub his hand up and down the shaft of the delicious morsel. 

Krycek bit his lip in an effort not to scream once more, and came obligingly, hot and sticky gushes of fluid that spurted to fill Mulder's mouth and trickle from the corners to run down his chin. 

"Yum," thought Mulder. He pulled back, and squeezed gently, then milked out the libation, licking it up with relish. A glance up at his lover revealed him to be lying in a limp heap, panting and disheveled. 

"Oh, baby," breathed Krycek as Mulder reappeared from beneath the table. "Oh, Mulder." 

Mulder settled back into his seat, smoothing his hair and flicking the dust from his clothes. He looked fondly across at his lover, who was wearing the expression of calm peacefulness that Mulder generally only saw when Alex was asleep. As Krycek straightened his clothing, Mulder happily tucked into the cold nachos. 

The other man got up and slid into the bench alongside Mulder, then put a warm hand into his lap, feeling the hardness engendered there by the Agent's foray beneath the table. Mulder put his hand on top and pressed, murmuring, "Hmm? Again? Can I finish my beer first?" 

Alex leaned closer and purred, "What?" then flicked Mulder's earlobe with a lightning tongue. "You're too much..." 

Mulder stared at the table, trying to suppress the urge to turn to Alex and kiss him, right there, right then, and fuck the consequences. He strove to sound flippant as he replied, "Well, I was feeling a mite frisky..." 

His lover obviously had more action in mind, for that seductive voice continued, "Can we spend the night?" 

There had been many nights with Alex on Mulder's couch, good nights, exciting nights, and a few nights when Scully had walked in and they'd escaped discovery by the skin of their teeth. It would be pleasant to have a quiet night, a comfortable one, maybe in a real bed. "Haven't you got a place?" he asked. 

"Yeah, but it's dangerous." The hot breath kissed his ear, sending an exquisite shiver down his spine. "You don't want them to see you." 

Them? Who were they? Mulder had learnt early in their relationship that it was not the sort of question one asked a person in Alex's position. "Shit," he muttered, under his breath. It was more than time some kind soul penned a handbook, 'Criminal Etiquette, a survivor's guide.' 

"What about Scully? 

"Hey, did she ever see me yet?" said Alex, reassuringly. 

Mulder thought about his waterbed. It seemed an unnatural way to sleep, rather like sleeping in a tree. "I suppose I could clear the bedroom," he said, pensively. 

Krycek picked up the hesitation in his voice. "Oh, god," he said, exasperated. "We could go to a hotel." 

"Mr and Mr Smith?" Mulder sniggered, imagining them standing at the reception desk, attempting anonymity and hoping the clerk wouldn't demand a credit card instead of cash. 

Krycek grinned. It seemed so ridiculous for two grown men to be skulking around like teenagers snatching a dirty weekend. "Smith and Jones. Yeah." 

What the hell! For Alex, it was worth risking the waterbed. "OK, my place," he whispered conspiratorially, "but if you hear her, hide." 

Krycek leaned forward and retrieved his beer from the opposite side of the table, then rested on his elbow as he took a long swallow. He looked up at the man beside him, lingering on those full lips, lusciously flushed from pleasuring him, the hazel eyes lazily studying him under half closed lids, the long nose... He swallowed. Damn, even the thought of Mulder made his mouth water these days, he had it so bad. He growled, "Mulder, you don't know how much you turn me on..." 

Mulder settled his weight unobtrusively against Krycek and let his fingers drift lightly along his lover's thigh. "Don't I?" he said, amused. "I have a slight idea." 

"You do?" 

Mulder thought of the way Krycek's hands wandered over his body whenever they neared each other. The way he seized him unexpectedly and kissed him fiercely, ferociously. The times Alex, incoherent with lust, had pounced on him like an irresistible force and fucked him. 

"You give an occasional hint. Nothing too blatant." Now that should win a prize for understatement of the year, thought Mulder. 

"You're fucking with me, aren't you?" said Alex, suspiciously. 

Mulder grinned. "I'm planning to." 

Krycek gazed at the sniggering G-man with an aura of wounded puppy about him. 

"Come on, Mulder. Do you care even a little?" 

Mulder studied Krycek for a minute with pursed lips, well aware of the effect he was having on the insecure assassin. He smiled again as he extracted a faint moan from him, and then put him out of his misery. Sort of. 

"About you? Well... I risked the suit, didn't I? And there is the small matter of your eyes... both of them." His smile was seraphic, and Krycek slowly smiled back. 

"My eyes? They do come in twos." 

Krycek's voice was back to its usual X-rated whisper, and Mulder cast around for more ways to get the other man to use it. He wondered if Krycek would contemplate a little phone sex if he played his cards right. 

"...And your ears... they're nice," continued Mulder, dreamily itemizing assets. 

Krycek was a little taken aback. "My ears? What are you... oh..." 

"Like a small Vulcan...pointy." He reached out to stroke the aforementioned item, and Krycek snuggled into the caressing hand like the puppy he'd been impersonating. 

"Is that a good thing?" he asked, tentatively. 

Mulder looked at the ear and slowly smiled again as memories of his early TV heroes came flooding back. "Hmm, yes." 

He bit his lip and said, tantalizingly, "Shall I go lower?" 

"Again?" Krycek asked, looking askance at the Agent. "Umm... I dunno. That chilli still stings." 

Mulder sniggered. Wiping his finger around the salsa dish, he licked it off slowly and suggestively. 

"Bastard." Krycek growled, squeezing Mulder's thigh painfully under the table. Mulder was so deep into Alex's attractions that the pain failed to register. 

"There's your neck," he added. There was still a faint mark on Krycek's neck, just under his ear. Mulder grew warm at the memory of making it. "I like kissing your neck... and licking it, even without the chilli sauce." 

Krycek, visibly moved, cleared his throat hastily, as the waitress trotted past them on her way to serve clients further back in the room. 

"Right...er... So tell me about this convention, then." 

Temporarily distracted from his urge to sink his fangs into Krycek's quivering flesh, Mulder looked down with a frown. 

"Oh yeah, that." A thought occurred, and he turned back to his lover, face all animation now. "Hey, I get company other than Scully." 

"Yeah, Skinner, Lovely." The sarcasm was a palpable entity. Mulder knew that Krycek was not impressed with the Assistant Director. 

"Agent Mucho's driving down with me, not Skinner this time," he said. That made Krycek stop and think. 

"Who's Agent Mucho?" he asked plaintively, as though he was missing the most vital piece of a puzzle. Mulder smiled beatifically as he considered how best to describe his latest acolyte. 

"She's... endowed," he murmured, awe in his voice. 

"Endowed? What with?" Puzzlement furrowed Krycek's brow and deepened the crease across the top of his nose. 

"The new one." Mulder said. "I told you. The one with the um... well developed ...er... breasts." His hands sketched out a pair of mammoth mammaries as he attempted to convey to his companion just exactly what the delicious Agent Mucho was like. Alex Krycek merely stared at him blankly, unimpressed by the whole idea. 

"Oh, that," he said dismissively, and scooped up the last crumbs of the nachos, holding his head back and displaying the long white column of his arching throat as he dropped them into his mouth 

Mulder stared at the empty nacho plate forlornly. 

There was a silence. Krycek swallowed his mouthful of nachos, then slowly turned and looked at Mulder. A faint frown creased his brow as he tried to work out what the other was implying. "You like that?" he said shuddering, imagining the pounds of sagging lard that Mulder's gesture had implied. 

Mulder shrugged his shoulders, and without raising his eyes from the plate said evasively, "I might do..." He looked up at Alex, a tiny grin tugging at this mouth. "Scully says they're plastic. They jiggle." 

Krycek shook his head and smiled, then took Mulder's hand and pressed it against his hard sculpted chest and said, "Mulder, what do you want with boobs?" 

The cloth under Mulder's hand was warm, and slid smoothly over the skin beneath as he surreptitiously rubbed his lover's torso under the cover of that sexy leather jacket. He blushed as his thoughts alternated between the solid beauty of Alex's form and the curvaceous softness of Mucho's. Desperately trying to think of a reply that would keep the discussion on a frivolous level he replied, "They keep your ears warm?" 

"God, you're crude," snorted Alex. 

The hand on his chest slid down to his crotch and squeezed. "I can be cruder..." 

Krycek drew in a couple of deep shuddering breaths as Mulder gently massaged his cock through his jeans. "I'm starting to worry about you," he murmured. 

The Agent leaned in and whispered, "Hey, it's your fault." 

"My fault?" breathed Alex, rolling his hips slowly under Mulder's hand. "I don't have boobs." 

"Ever since we started this... thing... I keep thinking about sex." 

Alex chuckled. "You're telling me I corrupted you? Oh, please..." 

Mulder's mind flipped back to his earlier fantasy of Mucho with Scully, and tried to substitute Krycek's face for the new agent's. Despite the beauty of Alex's face, somehow the vision kept slipping away. He couldn't imagine his lover as anything but a guy. He wondered if he'd earn himself some terrible retribution if he asked the assassin to dress up as a woman for him. 

Biting his lips he said guiltily, "Not corrupted, exactly." 

Alex was still talking. 

"I think about sex with you." Then he glanced at his companion and his words trailed off. There was a moment's pause and his eyes widened. "That's a strange look you've got in your eye." 

"...More like made me think about opportunities," Mulder went on. "I just used to depend on...well videos and such...voyeurism, I suppose." 

"I... I don't know if that's a good thing or not." Alex was bending his thoughts to uncover the meaning behind Mulder's words. His nose crinkle was well in evidence as he attempted to disentangle meaning from Mulder's cryptic utterances. 

Completely unencumbered by any sense of either guilt or self-preservation, Mulder mused on, oblivious. "I think I rediscovered humans." 

"Wait a minute..." had Mulder been a little more alert, and a little less well-sucked-off, he might have felt the temperature dropping 20 degrees. "You're telling me that you're thinking of screwing this plastic woman...?" 

"Er, sort of thinking... hypothetically," Mulder murmured, his face beatific as he mentally contemplated the rich curves of Agent B. M. Mucho. He should have been looking at his lover, whose countenance was growing darker by the moment. 

"Mulder," said Krycek, his voice a harbinger of doom. "Tell me this, how much do you like your dick?" 

A worried look stole across Mulder's features. Shit! "It's always been a friend to me." 

"You want to keep it?" The ominous growl brought Mulder up short. 

"Preferably... to my grave..." He frowned. There was something wrong with that sentence. "Um, I didn't mean to say that." 

"It's mine. You're just the custodian." Krycek reached out suddenly, grabbing hold of Mulder's hair and dragging his face around until the two of them were nose to nose, with Krycek's hot breath on his lips. 

"It was just speculation, Alex." Mulder found himself babbling, trying to appease his companion, who seemed on the verge of combustion. "She seemed interested." 

"I don't like it," Alex grated, emphasizing his words with a painful twist of the handful of hair. 

Mulder's eyes widened in shock at Krycek's evident jealousy. As he processed this new aspect of his lover, he offered more excuses. "I didn't want to get stale?" That one didn't work. "New experiences?" Nope. He still looked pissed. "I was flattered?" 

Krycek sighed, and released Mulder's tortured scalp. Patiently he explained, "She's gonna be interested in you. Of course she is, Mulder, but then so is three-quarters of the human race." Alex's view may have been a little biased, but he was inwardly convinced. He stated emphatically, "You are not gonna get into that. Not. Hear me?" 

The possessive tone in Alex's voice finally clicked. Christ, who did he think he was? Well, only the sexiest guy in the world, but even that wasn't everything, was it? 

"Fuck, Alex, you don't own me!" he said angrily. He looked speculatively at the fuming assassin, cocking his eyebrow. "I might flirt a little..." 

The frown was back on the assassin's face, a deep furrow now that creased his nose and made him appear saturnine and dangerous. "Come on, Mulder." The hands returned to Mulder's hair, this time to stroke apologetically. "You and me, we're so good together. You're mine..." 

"Hmm, yeah, but..." This was fun. Mulder hugged his inner demon, and began to toy with his victim. 

"But what?" Fingers gripped Mulder's head briefly, as though a cat had momentarily unsheathed his claws. 

Mulder gazed mildly into Krycek's stormy face, wondering where to place the first barb. "She's pneumatic and bats her eyelashes." 

There was a pause. The hands on Mulder's head tightened and then released. The face of the assassin loomed before him. 

"I can bat my eyelashes," snarled Krycek. Mulder quailed as he looked at his incensed companion. 

"I'd rather you didn't." He thought for a minute. What else could he say to de-fuse this? "And she hangs on my words." 

"Okay, there are limits." Krycek pulled Mulder's head forward and pressed his mouth briefly onto the other's full lips, then a thought dropped home like a penny in a slot. When next he spoke, he sounded aggrieved. "You don't like my eyelashes?" 

A heavy sigh escaped Mulder. "They're beautiful," he said, reassuringly. Then he reflected for a minute. "And I suppose hers might be false." 

Krycek released his lover's head, shaking his own from side to side. "Oh, fuck. This is getting stupid. Listen, Mulder, I care about you. I can't stop thinking about you." Mulder looked thoughtfully at him as he wondered whether he should utter the question that had just popped into his mind. The look seemed to speak to Alex of hideous possibilities. "What?" he asked. 

Mulder was well aware of Alex's capabilities, he didn't know whether he wanted a truthful answer, but his insatiable curiosity overcame him. 

"What would you do if I fucked her?" 

"Kill her," was the instant reply. He closed his eyes, and bit his lips, as if to take back the involuntary words. A grunt of laughter, and he added with a quirky smile, "Kill you?" The laughter went to his eyes as he saw Mulder's shocked expression. "Jeez, Mulder, I don't know. Drop it, will you?" 

Mulder was not fooled by the laughter. He suspected Alex was serious. He considered pursuing the inquiry, but thought better of it and shrugged. 

"Ok, I'll drop it." 

Alex was relieved. His feelings for Mulder were something he hadn't questioned. He hadn't realized how deep they had become. Slightly uneasily he said, "Forget it. Thanks." 

There was a further pause. Both men were busy with their own thoughts. Finally Mulder changed the subject. "I'll be gone a couple of days for the conference." 

"Where is the conference? Are you going far?" Alex seized on the topic gratefully. 

"Not too far. Baltimore." Mulder brightened as he thought of the weekend that was to come. "It's quite a big thing." 

"Oh really? When is it gonna be?" Alex was interested now, some dark and private thought lurking in the back of his eyes. 

"End of the week," said Mulder. "Gotta finish my paper." 

"Right, your paper." Krycek seemed even more interested. "So you're presenting?" 

Mulder's eyes flickered sideways to where Krycek sat, face bland as he clamped down on the outer signs of inner thought processes. "You don't want to hear this stuff, Alex. I get it all day at work." He yawned, ostentatiously. 

Krycek leaned back, and looked Mulder up and down. The bar was getting boring, there were better things they could be doing... elsewhere. He purred, "Baby, of course I do, but I tell you what I want to do more than that..." 

Mulder grinned. Alex must have picked up his thoughts again. "How about you, me, the waterbed, and some Hagen Daas... Forget the con." 

Now that was an offer that Krycek never passed up. Mulder slathered in ice cream was one of his favorite snacks. He wiggled his eyebrows encouragingly and said, "Oh, yes... Hmm... Tonight?" He considered the variety of confections that the company had on offer. "Yeah...let's see. What flavor?" 

"Cherry?" suggested Mulder, archly. 

"I haven't had a cherry for years." Alex pointed out, helpfully. "Hey, how about Rocky Road?" 

Mulder sniggered, as a very rude idea sprang to mind. "Lumpy," he said dismissively. "And no chocolate." 

"Love me, love my lumps," Alex quipped. "No chocolate?" He was a little puzzled. Mulder usually couldn't resist chocolate. 

"Mucho's the one with lumps, not you," retorted Mulder, avoiding Alex's nasty grin. He shuddered at the expression on the other man's face, and tried for the sympathy vote. "Hey, I puked last time, with the chocolate, remember?" 

"Will you...?" Alex started to say something, a grin, broad and evil painted on his face, but as he watched Mulder's avoidance techniques, he slowly ground to a halt, his face falling. "Oh, forget it. Sounds like vanilla is your flavor after all." Mulder kicked him under the table, stung to the quick by Alex's last words. The grin reappeared on Alex's face. "Make it English Toffee and I'm your man." 

"Great, sticky Alex." Mulder actually licked his lips, entranced at the thoughts that were pleasantly flitting through his X-rated brain. "Do I get to rub it into your pubes? I might have to shave it off, if I can't suck you clean." 

Krycek shivered, all thoughts of squashy female competition temporarily suspended as he visualized the possibilities that a tub of English Toffee and a straight razor could provide. "Can we go now?" he said, eagerly. 

"Yeah." Mulder was on his feet even as Alex spoke, turning to leave the bar, stubbing bare toes, and groaning, "Hell, my feet!" 

"Where are your socks?" Alex asked, totally confused. 

Mulder scrambled into his shoes. "Damn!" He peered under the table in a vaguely hopeful manner. Alex expected him to start shouting "Here, sock!" any minute. 

Mulder was taking entirely too much time. Surely he possessed more than one pair of socks, thought Krycek. He took Mulder's arm and urged him towards the door. 

"Oh, god, Mulder, I can't wait," he hissed in his lover's ear. 

Mulder gave a philosophical shrug and stood upright. "Let's leave the sock," he said, ruefully. It was only then that Krycek noticed the design gracing the remaining one... some sort of commemorative motif for the first moon landing. 

Belatedly Alex realized Mulder was making a sacrifice, so he said generously, "I'll buy you a new one." 

Mulder thought of the tiny picture of Neil Armstrong woven into the sole, clutching his Stars and Stripes, an item anyone would covet. It was inconceivable that others would not treasure it as he did. 

"It'll give the waitress something to drool over," he said sadly. "OK, I'm coming." 

"Not yet, but soon," promised Alex, as he strolled towards the exit. 

-oo00oo- 

It had been quite a coincidence bumping into Mucho, thought Mulder. He didn't usually bother to leave the office at lunchtime when he had paperwork to do, but he'd needed to visit the bank and somehow there she was, right outside when he came out. She'd suggested catching up with that promise of coffee then and there, so they headed to an outdoor cafe on the sidewalk. 

"It's really good of you to talk over my presentation, Agent Mucho," said Mulder as they took their seats at a tiny table amongst the crowd of patrons. 

"No problem." Mucho's voice was husky, intimate. She rested her hand briefly on his sleeve and said reassuringly, "I'm always happy to... lend a hand... to a fellow agent." 

"I could do with a friendly audience for a first run-through," said Mulder, pleased at her interest and generosity. 

Agent Mucho leaned back in her seat, her bountiful flesh seething as she inhaled the rich scent of her espresso. "You have my undivided attention. I'm prepared to be dazzled." She crossed long legs, her short skirt riding high as she did so. "I must confess, your choice of topics does intrigue me. Do you often use the services of professionals in your investigations? Professional clairvoyants, that is." 

Mulder looked a little taken aback. "Well, not personally, but there is an interesting history of these people in crime investigations. Surprisingly many in fact..." 

Mucho arched her brow delicately in query. "Have you ever had a clairvoyant experience yourself?" 

"I might be having one now," Mulder smirked, his eyes fixed with faint glee on the cleft between Mucho's breasts. Well aware of Mulder's current obsession, Mucho shimmied out of her jacket, showing that one button too many was undone on her blouse, revealing the lace edging of her brassiere. 

"Really?" There was a laugh in Mucho's voice as she quizzed the hapless man sitting opposite her. Mulder realized what he had just said, and a red tide rose up from his neck to his ears as he blushed hotly. 

Mulder dragged his eyes back to her face and swallowed convulsively. Shit, that line was straight from a third rate porno flick... had he really said it to a fellow agent? "Oh, sorry... yes," he stuttered, trying to recall the question. 

But Mucho was a mistress of such games, and could play Mulder like a fish on a line. She averted her eyes coyly, and then looked back at him from underneath her improbable lashes. "Can you tell me what I'm thinking right now?" she breathed, licking her lips slowly and sensually. 

Alex Krycek was feeling nervous. There had been something about Mulder's behavior yesterday that he couldn't put his finger on, but that was setting off vibes in his finely tuned survival instinct. Last night had been... Well, fulfilling would be accurate, but didn't quite capture the mood. Maybe 'mind-blowing'? He was feeling more than good after the night he'd spent, but there was still something niggling at the edge of his mind... 

Meanwhile, Mulder was trying to retrieve his conversation with the smoldering Agent Mucho. Work. Yes, work... That should dampen her down. "Er... the paper?" 

Krycek had been hoping for inspiration. Waiting for the other shoe...or in this case sock... to fall, he'd stumbled out, newly-shaven groin itching like a hive of ants, in search of a cappuccino. He'd spotted the love of his life as he'd headed for his favorite coffee bar, intending to revive his poor, abused body with a healthy dose of caffeine. Now, he lurked in the shadows behind the pastry cart, and watched the by-play between his lover and what could only be the fabled, pneumatic, Agent Mucho. It was not helping his blood pressure at all, but he couldn't turn his head away. It was just like watching a train wreck. Mulder chose that second to go on the air again. 

"You're thinking about the paper?" repeated Mulder confidently, hoping his voice wouldn't betray the mixture of lust and intimidation that Mucho had engendered. "Is it warm in here?" His nervously questing eyes roamed the room, attempting to avoid Mucho's satin skin, and he caught sight of Alex, lurking in the shadows. Evil rose within him. This would be fun. He'd never had a jealous lover before. Mulder wanted to play with him just a little. He gave himself a visible shake, smiled wolfishly, and turned his attention to Agent Mucho's fine front. She was speaking, and he leaned forward to hang on her lips for his audience. 

"A bit warm perhaps," murmured Agent Mucho, throatily. "Is there something wrong, Agent Mulder?" 

"N--no," he stammered, trying to appear urbane and devil-may-care, and merely succeeding in looking flustered. 

"You seem distracted." The blood red lips were moving, and Mulder was fascinated as he watched them move. The words were not important. He shifted uneasily. 

"I need to take my jacket off. I feel a little... strange." Mulder suited the words to the deed, hanging his jacket over the back of his chair and rolling up his shirtsleeves as he did so. His pounding heart and rapid breathing began to return to normal as he fidgeted. 

"At least it's a start," muttered Mucho under her breath. Out loud she added, "Strange?" 

"That's a beautiful outfit you're wearing... Smart... but..." Mulder was aware that he was babbling, but somehow he seemed unable to stop. 

Agent Mucho seemed to take it in her stride. She was obviously used to reducing grown men to babbling idiots. "Thank you," she smiled, graciously. "You said you feel strange... care to explain?" Then her perfect brow creased. "But what?" she added. 

But what? thought Mulder, desperately. He could say, 'But I'd like to see more of what you're wearing beneath' or possibly, 'But too hot for today... let me help you remove it?' Did he want to be slapped on the face in public? Maybe not. He leaned forward. "Um..." He hesitated, then whispered intimately, "Sexy." 

Krycek hadn't realized he had an aptitude for lip-reading until that moment, but there was no mistaking the word that Mulder's mouth had just shaped. Like a leopard guarding its prey from a circling hyena he growled deep in his throat and inched closer. He sat at a nearby table and strained to catch their conversation, peering at them from the cover of a large ornamental plant. 

"And your hair, it...sorta...floats," Mulder continued, warming to his theme. 

"I'm glad you think so," murmured Mucho, pursing her lips to suppress a giggle at Mulder's inept complements. 

"It's unusual in the FBI," he blurted, as the dazzling gleam of Skinner's bald pate flashed across his memory. Jeez, what the hell am I saying? he thought, gulping his drink in an effort to stop the flow of blather that his brain seemed to think was sophisticated repartee. 

Krycek studied Agent Mucho through narrowed eyes. He'd seen harpies before, and just because they worked for the FBI it didn't mean they were any less dangerous or unscrupulous. The world would be a safer place, rid of this particular member of the sisterhood. Vicious plans for her demise crowded his mind as he breathed a promise, "It'll float on the fucking river when I'm done with you, bitch." 

Amusing as the conversation was, Mucho realized that without a little push Mulder would waste his opportunity reiterating the obvious. The messages semaphored by her body language couldn't be clearer, but she knew she'd have to cut him short before he made a complete fool of himself and retreated in shame. Resting her elbow on the table and propping her dainty chin on her hand she smiled kindly, turning the heat down a notch or two. She asked lightly, "Mulder, are you coming on to me?" 

Mulder paused, mouth agape, in mid-blather. His countenance was that of a man who had been whacked on the back of the head by a sandbag. "...Um...er," he managed. 

"...Because if you were we can dispense with the poetic rhetoric." She smiled brightly, white teeth flashing within round, red lips, and Mulder shuddered visibly. The tip of his nose turned pink. 

"You are a lovely woman, Agent Mucho," Mulder began, unaware that Alex, in the shadows behind him was grinding his teeth rhythmically. "...But..." 

"But what?" Mucho's alabaster brow creased as she turned over the word in her head, wondering what ailed the handsome, but very slow man she was trying to entice. 

Mulder, catching the faint growl from behind the aspidistra, was backpedaling. "We are colleagues." 

"Your point would be..." smiled Mucho. The charming whiteness of her smile was beginning to look a little predatory to Mulder, who was very aware now that Alex Krycek was an assassin, and getting angry. 

"It could be...awkward," he said, reflecting to himself that a slit throat often offends. 

Mucho, unaware of the tenor that Mulder's thoughts were taking, was on the air again. "The last time I checked we were both adults. What could be awkward? I'm not entirely sure what you're implying." She favored Mulder with a demure look that earned another growl from within the shrubbery at his back. 

The rumbling from behind Mulder was sending an unmistakable message. He almost expected Alex to leap over his head and throttle Agent Mucho where she sat. The conversation needed to be steered to safer waters. "Um... an out of office...friendship maybe?" he proposed tentatively. "I enjoy your company, we seem to have a lot in common, but... well..." 

An almost visible cloud of superheated steam rose from Krycek as he listened to Mucho's unashamed verbal seduction of Mulder. How he had the gall to encourage the vixen... and how she had the nerve to chase a fellow agent, so blatantly, so publicly... She was hi-jacking him in front of Krycek's eyes. 

Mucho smiled slowly, her gaze an invitation to Mulder to take her words straight to his heart... or maybe lower. "I don't see a problem with being friends." she said, intimately. "To tell the truth, it's been my experience that friends work better together in the field... less to explain to each other." 

"True," agreed Mulder, playing for time. Every word he said seemed to imply the opposite of his true meaning. 

Mucho leaned closer, enveloping Mulder once again in her musky perfume and Krycek took advantage of their distraction to slip into a nearer hiding place. 

"I'll fucking bury her in a field, you asshole. See if I don't," Krycek grated, studying the enemy from his new vantage point. 

Mucho was still weaving her feminine spell over the hapless Fox Mulder. "But if what you're suggesting is..." 

"You almost know what I'm thinking," mumbled Mulder, leaning back so he could stare down her ample cleavage. Noticing his eyeballs, which were virtually standing out on stalks, Agent Mucho leaned back to facilitate his gaze. 

Krycek watched this maneuver in disgust. "I think it's printed down the center of your fucking tongue," he spat under his breath. 

"Why don't we just see what happens tomorrow?" asked Mucho, finishing her coffee and pushing her cup back as she rose to her feet. As she got up, Krycek caught sight of the cleavage that had impressed his beloved so much. "Good grief," he whispered, truly moved. 

Mulder seemed mesmerized by her. He stared, awestruck. "See, you did it again." 

"I need to finish packing," said Mucho, reaching for her jacket. 

Mulder, whose eyes had now dropped to her underpinning, jumped as she spoke. "My thoughts exactly," he babbled, gazing at her legs, and licking suddenly dry lips. 

Mucho smiled sweetly, turning back to face Mulder. "Great," she murmured. "Then I'll see you in the morning?" 

"Oh, yeah," said Mulder, crudely. He suddenly recollected himself. "Um sorry...yes. Nine o'clock was it?" 

"That's good." The sultry agent picked up her jacket, put it on, and turned to leave. Behind the potted plants, Alex Krycek, triple agent and lovesick, jealous fool, took notes about the rendezvous to come. 

Mucho headed for the door, her pert derriere swaying in a motion that was both arousing and hypnotic. Mulder glanced back towards the shadows that concealed Krycek and swallowed nervously, then he got up to follow Agent Mucho out into the sunlight. 

Krycek faded back into the depths of the room, sure he hadn't been seen. As the two agents left the coffee bar, he ghosted after them in time to see Mulder catch up with his companion. As he lurked in the doorway, he was able to witness Agent Bessie-May Mucho as she turned around, putting a hand flat against Mulder's chest. 

"Go home and get a good night's sleep, Agent Mulder," she said. "You won't be getting any more for the rest of the weekend." 

Krycek watched, grimly determined to see the final outrage. Agent Mucho stood on her tiptoes, and planted a kiss on Mulder's lips, staining his mouth with Passion Red lipstick, and involving certain tongue movements that were clearly and distressingly visible to the man in the shadows. 

Mulder wasn't sure how far to take this. He had heard no further growling, but he was sure that Krycek was approaching meltdown now, and he had begun to be worried about Mucho's safety. The worry hadn't quite reached the point where he felt that he should resist her advances, but it was enough to give him a very satisfactory frisson of guilt at his own behavior, even as he ran his hands up and down her svelte flanks. 

Krycek was at this point taking mental inventory of his weaponry. "Knives. Knives are good. Nice and messy..." he hissed at a passing barrista, who took one look at the venomous expression on the sinister stranger's face, and fled for the safety of her cappuccino machine. "You can do a lot with a knife." 

Meanwhile, Mulder had found his tongue. "That was...wonderful," he croaked. 

"And only the beginning..." smiled Mucho. 

Mulder shivered. His hormones seemed to have begun to work after all these years. "I... you... er..." His impression of a 15-year-old boy was flawless. 

"Hmm?" Agent Mucho must have been used to it, because she took it in her stride, smiling and patting the babbling Mulder on the cheek. 

"Tomorrow." Mulder finally achieved coherence. 

"Tomorrow." Mucho resisted the urge to launch into a selection of songs from 'Annie.' 

"I really have to finish the paper." Mulder was almost back to normal. What matter that he had made a complete fool of himself, and that he had a huge, scarlet imprint on his face? He was feeling no pain whatsoever. 

As Agent Mucho turned and sashayed off to pack, Mulder stood and stared after her, completely baffled at the turn of events that had just taken place. 

"Damn," he thought as he headed off to complete his paper. 

-oo00oo- 

Mulder drew up outside Agent Mucho's door the following morning in a state of aroused trepidation. He'd spent a restless night, plagued by guilty visions and one particularly erotic dream starring Agent Mucho, which had suddenly turned to nightmare. Their lovemaking had been approaching its climax when Alex had burst through the door, dragged Mucho away and drowned her in a vat of raspberry ripple. 

As if it were a portent of doom, he listened to Mucho's doorbell chiming in the distance. The door swung a little open, revealing a pile of matching luggage cluttering the narrow hallway, and her retreating voice called brightly, "I'll be ready in just one more second." 

"Fine," replied Mulder lugubriously. The weighty bags... all four of them... just shoehorned into the trunk alongside his own overnight case and suit bag. He looked dubiously at his meager belongings, wondering if he had somehow overlooked a white-tie banquet on the Conference program, or maybe a compulsory polo match and scuba diving afternoon. He could think of no other reason for the huge amount of accoutrements that Mucho deemed necessary for a single weekend. Standing in the doorway to avoid the already hot sun, he awaited his passenger. 

The person that bounced out of the doorway bore little resemblance to the Agent Mucho of the previous day. Reasoning that Mulder might be more at ease, a mite more forward if she presented him with a less formal exterior, she had opted for a very relaxed look. Swallowing hard as a curvaceous vision that lay somewhere between a Playboy bunny and a Beverly Hillbilly strutted towards his car, Mulder found himself peering into her hallway to see where the real Agent Mucho lay concealed. 

"Ready when you are," she informed him with a wide smile. 

Mulder's mouth gaped open and shut like a dying fish as he struggled to think of a remark other than, "That's obvious." 

Large areas of golden satin skin were revealed by the tiny drawstring shorts and the skimpy top held up by impossibly slender straps across her elegant shoulders. Her firm assets were in no obvious need of a brassiere, as they stood proud against the straining cloth, outlining the generous and erect nipples. 

Mucho glanced coyly at him, noting the bobbing Adam's apple. "I figured I might as well be comfortable for the drive..." she said. As Mulder's eyebrow lifted Mucho assured him with a tinkling laugh, "I'll change at the hotel." 

"Er, fine..." said Mulder doubtfully, wondering how he was going to get her into the hotel in the first place. Images of being refused entry by a frosty doorman because he was trying to smuggle a call girl into his room curled his liver. "Cool is good, but the air-conditioning... ?" 

He opened the passenger door, looking at her in some distress. Standing next to him, she glanced back at her house, then up into his eyes, and bit her voluptuous bottom lip. A slender finger ran gently over his chin as she breathed, "If it makes you uncomfortable, I could change now..." 

Mulder looked down into her eyes, twin pools of enchantment, and all his misgivings suddenly vanished. Smiling down at her he repeated, "The air-conditioning might bring you out in goose bumps." Hmm, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. "But...I'll be happy to warm you right back up." 

That's more like it, thought Mucho, winking as she sank gracefully into her seat. "You can hope so," she said coquettishly, as Mulder carefully closed the door on his enticing companion. 

Agent Mucho settled in to the passenger's seat as Mulder straightened, letting out a huge breath that he was unaware that he'd been holding. By the time Mulder had walked around and climbed in behind the wheel she had taken off her sneakers and put her feet up on the dash, revealing dark red nail polish with a toe ring. For some reason, the toe ring reminded him of Krycek, though he couldn't imagine why that might be. 

Turning to survey the bounty that was seated along side of him, he felt his fingers itching, and his ears grow warm. "Your seatbelt, Agent Mucho. Let me help you. It's a little tricky." 

Mucho visibly restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "Into restraints, are we?" she grinned, reaching for the seatbelt. 

"Only when appropriate," replied Mulder, with visions of his traveling companion in cuffs and blindfold, panting on his bed while he approached, his tub of plain vanilla ice cream about to be savored at long last. 

-oo00oo- 

Alex Krycek had spent most of the night installing surveillance devices into Mulder's car, and was irritable, unshaven and tired. He had driven to the junction where the Baltimore road started, and now he was waiting, listening to the conversation that was taking place at that very moment, back in Alexandria. He'd done a little tooth grinding already, and right now he was working on a head of steam that threatened to explode as he listened to the two in Mulder's car. "Appropriate? I'll give you appropriate!" he snarled, fingering his Glock. 

Mulder was burbling as he assisted Mucho with her seat belt. "I wouldn't want anything... unpleasant to happen to you." 

"The strap is twisted," volunteered Mucho, with a twinkle in her eye. Maliciously, she indicated the section of belt that passed between her breasts. "Right there?" 

"Oh dear." The back of Mulder's neck was turning pink, and his ears were starting to wiggle. "Let me get that." With hands that were a little shaky, he undid the belt, ran his hand up it, successfully brushing Agent Mucho with the back of his hand as he did so. He was virtually fainting as he clicked the belt into place, storing the symbolism away in his mind alongside the cherished images of rocket ships launching, and inserting flap A into slot B. "There, I think that's okay." 

Agent Mucho tucked her head down and caught his finger between her teeth, sucked down hard once and then let go. Mulder let out a high-pitched yelp. 

"Um... we have to get on. There's a deadline and Skinner will be expecting us," he burbled, wondering if he was ready for any of this; wondering if indeed the world was ready for it. 

"Where you lead, good sir..." Mucho was smiling, and damn! There went the eyelash thing again. Krycek rose unbidden in his mind, and Mulder forcibly ejected him. 

"But later," Mulder was still talking. Mucho gestured forward with her hand and Mulder found himself becoming conscious of the way he was fondling his gear stick. "Maybe I can lead you... to my room... for a nightcap?" 

"Later, I won't be as subtle," purred Mucho. 

"Later, I won't be as sensible," replied Mulder as he pulled away from the curb at last. 

-oo00oo- 

Somewhere in the vicinity of the turnpike, Alex Krycek fumed. This was too damned much. He was going to kill something. 

-oo00oo- 

Navigating through the morning traffic became an ordeal of self-control for Mulder. Junctions loomed up with frightening speed. Pedestrians seemed possessed of a collective death wish as Mulder struggled to concentrate on the road rather than on Agent Mucho. Every time he thought he'd put her out of his mind a delicately tanned arm would reach out to open the glove box to investigate the motley collection of cassettes within, pop one in the player, then withdraw it again. Or she'd twist round, brushing his shoulder as she attempted to retrieve a magazine or bag from the rear seat, her long bare thighs sliding seductively over each other. 

Having exhausted the possibilities of Mulder's musical tastes, Bessie took a deep breath and turned to him, saying earnestly, "I'm so looking forward to the convention, Agent Mulder." 

It struck Mulder that he'd heard that inflection before. Old movies... Marilyn Monroe... that was it! She'd imbued every word with that same intimate tone, implying her companion was the flame around which she was helplessly gyrating. Unbidden, Alex sprang to mind once again, and his groin tingled as he thought of his lover's X-rated voice ravishing his ears with steamy words of love and raunchy compliments. Desperately he fiddled with the radio, searching for some distracting music to draw his mind both from Mucho's satin-smooth skin and vivid memories of Alex's sweat-glistening body as he writhed and implored Mulder for release while they fucked on the tangled and sticky covers of his water-bed. Clearing his throat, he replied to her remark in a strained and husky whisper, "You won't find it dull?" 

Bessie turned wide, clear eyes on him and replied soulfully, "It's such a thrill to be with someone at the very top of his field." The tiniest of creases indented her brow as she continued, "Dull? Never. You could never bore me." Her magnificent bosom palpated with incredulity. 

"Me?" squeaked Mulder, choking with embarrassment because his voice, like his hormones, seemed to be passing through a second adolescence. "I'm dull." He thought of the glassy expression that overtook the features of most women and many men of his acquaintance as he expounded his theories at his infrequent social engagements. Even the faithful Scully had been known to interrupt his diatribes with an unobtrusive snore. "Most ladies aren't interested in my work, I've found," he said, ruefully. 

She smiled, and her beautiful eyes twinkled. Others might dismiss him as an oddball, but Mucho genuinely found the combination of the eccentrically brilliant mind in the sexy body an irresistible package. He was charmingly flustered by her pursuit, too. His efforts to parry her attack had a sweet naivete that added an extra thrill to the chase. "You're so not dull," she assured him with a laugh. "I'm just fascinated by your slant on things. Your ability to take a case and open it wide..." she added archly, lifting a slim eyebrow. 

Mulder gave his thoughts a brisk shake. Scully's a woman, he mused. I can do innuendo with Scully, therefore I can do it with Mucho. Get a grip, Mulder, she's not going to take offence, it's just a game to brighten a tedious journey - dammit, the woman's as good as thrown herself at me already. He turned to her, grinning lop-sidedly. "I like to get inside people," he ventured. 

She sighed theatrically, and murmured "I could just follow you... forever." 

Mulder could feel his hair lifted by the breeze from her fluttering eyelashes. 

"To know them..." he continued, more confidently. 

Bessie, pleased, gave a girlish giggle and flicked her hair back, exposing the elegant sweep of her neck and shoulder. "And I'm sure that you could get inside me," she said warmly. "You're such a student of human nature." As her scarlet mouth formed a melting smile she imitated his earlier caress of the gear stick, letting her perfectly manicured thumb circle slowly over the chrome knob until Mulder expected it to ejaculate engine oil all over her clasping hand. 

"You are an interesting person. I could study you for quite a while," said Mulder, in strangled tones, convinced that his sudden, burgeoning erection was going to drain all the fluid from his brain. 

"Me?" trilled Bessie. "Why thank you, but how could you possibly want to study me?" She demonstrated her enthusiasm in a series of delightful little shivers that rippled through her torso in a way that made Mulder swerve slightly. 

"How?" he gulped. "Closely... very closely." Forcefully, he straightened up the car and schooled his face into stern, manly lines. 

The voluptuous Agent Mucho took a further couple of deep breaths, and turned to lean and face Mulder, smiling sweetly. "That," she said, succinctly, "Could be arranged." 

"How would you like to while away this boring journey until we can get together properly?" asked Mulder, more in the hopes that she would let him concentrate on his driving than in any real hope that she would ease up on him. 

"You must be a little clairvoyant yourself, Agent Mulder." The woman positively oozed enthusiasm, and Mulder began to wonder if he'd ever make it to Baltimore intact, or whether his lifeless body would later be discovered following his explosion from schoolboy lust. Agent Mucho appeared to subside for a minute more, and then leaned forward quite suddenly, bosoms a-quiver. "Or may I call you Fox?" 

Mulder smiled weakly. No! Not Fox. I hate that name, he shrieked inwardly. "It sounds good coming from your lips," was all he could say. 

"We could go over your presentation," she continued, and then added coyly, "Or if you were interested, I could tell you about mine." She laid a warm palm on Mulder's leg as she spoke. "By the way, please call me Bessie... Fox." Mulder gulped. He was too young for this kind of excitement. This woman ought to carry a government health warning. 

"Tell me about yours," he said, hoping that his request would sidetrack her. 

"It's to do with palmistry," she said, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Thank the lord; it was all going to be okay. There was nothing erotic about palmistry, at least not in the FBI handbook. 

"Fascinating," said Mulder, desperately pouncing on the topic. 

She turned over the hand resting in his leg, and extending her fingers like a cat stretching its paw, rubbed the back against the fine cloth of his pants, remarking, "You know that everyone's personality is laid out in the palm, don't you?" 

Mulder's common sense leapt on his libido and his imagination, dragged them kicking and protesting to a dusty corner of his mind and locked them in a sturdy cupboard, hoping the lines on his palm would magically realign themselves as a consequence. Sheepishly he mumbled, "Not every detail I hope..." 

"I've had a lot of success in blind studies, determining character type from their palm. It's almost 100% foolproof," she continued, blithely. 

"Really?" gulped Mulder. "Almost like a lie detector? 

Bessie smiled modestly. She knew her talent was remarkable, but found that her actions spoke for themselves. "Well, not to that degree, but I can pick out the recidivist..." 

She moved her hand up from his leg and let her fingers trail feather-light down his inner arm towards the hand gripping the steering wheel. "Let me see yours." 

Mulder nearly blurted, "You already can," as his eyes flicked for an instant to the straining bulge in his lap and then determinedly glued themselves back to the road ahead. 

"Your palm, idiot. She means your palm," piped up a little voice in his head, as his commonsense scurried back from its wrestling match with his more uninhibited emotions. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was parched. "Well...all right," he stuttered, peeling a damp hand from the wheel and moving it towards her. 

Bessie took his shaking hand in both of hers and fondled it, turning it over and stroking the skin as if to absorb the texture through her fingertips. "I can pick out the artist," she murmured. "Give me 10 sets of hands..." 

Mulder laughed edgily, conscious of the nervous sweat that was beading his body, turning his hand into a hot clammy paw. "I've only got one set," he tittered. 

She turned his hand palm up, holding it steady with hers and bent to study it. "Hmm... Let me see." 

He could feel her breath dancing on his skin. "You have a sensitive hand." Her fingers gripped his as she stretched the flesh to make the lines distinct against the background. Suddenly there was a sensation of cloth against his palm and he looked at Bessie to find her lips pursed as if for a kiss, as she pressed his hand against her skimpy top and slowly drew it downwards, wiping the moisture into the taut fabric confining her voluptuous breasts. 

The car lurched crazily as Mulder's attention was riveted to the image of his fingers cupping the bold contours of Mucho's perfect physique. The sudden insistent honk of a horn recalled him to his surroundings and he wrenched the steering to right his course, squirming against the car seat to ease the uncomfortable snugness of his underwear. 

Bessie was off and running now, warming to her subject." The long fingers denote deep thought," she said, caressing them lovingly. "And the fleshy thumb...right here..." She tapped the area with long, blood red nails. 

Mulder gulped, and then wriggled. "That tickles!" 

"That's a sensual nature," gurgled Bessie. "You are a very sensual man, Fox... I like to see that in a man." Mulder had no idea where she was looking right then, but he knew that he had plenty of sensual traits on display at that moment, and that he would be lucky to make it through to Baltimore without demonstrating them all over his pants. 

"Thank you," he said, gravely. "I appreciate more than I'm given credit for." I'd appreciate a bathroom where I could go and get this damned hard-on under control, that's what I'd really appreciate. He longed for Alex. If Alex had been in the car, by now he'd have his head in Mulder's lap and he'd be on his way to relief. Of course, Bessie might do that too, but Alex was a known quantity. Bessie was a scary unknown. Sure, she was squashy in an interesting way, but she was a girl, and Mulder was nervous. Girls were not the same. 

Bessie raised his hand to her mouth and nibbled, contemplatively. Mulder let out a squeak, and then took conscious hold of himself, turned to her, and managed a strangely maniacal grin. 

"Is this part of the reading?" 

"It could be." Bessie smiled maliciously, and sank her teeth into the fleshy pad of his thumb. "Would you like me to predict what you'll do next?" 

Mulder's response went unborn. At that precise moment, his cellphone rang. He snatched his hand back and felt in his pocket for his phone, putting it to his ear with an air of control he was far from feeling. 

"Sorry, I'll just get this," he stammered, taking a deep breath. 

"I'll wait right here for you. Fox," said his tormentor, with more bosom heaving. He winked at Bessie, and then dragged his eyes back to the road with great difficulty, and attempted to compose himself. 

"Hello?" 

"Hello, Mulder." A familiar smoky voice caressed his ears, and his groin, which had begun to return to quiescence, was suddenly full and tight again. 

"Hi." Mulder was a little surprised, but on the whole, pleased to hear from his lover. The sun was shining, the birds were singing their heads off, and he had gorgeous specimens of both sexes that wanted him. Life was good. 

"How's things? What're you doing?" The lazy voice drew gooseflesh over Mulder as the intimate whisper crawled from the receiver to tantalize his ear. 

"I'm just on my way to the conference," said Mulder, glancing at Bessie, stretched out beside him like a particularly delicious entree. 

"Yeah?" Krycek was non-committal. 

"Looks like it'll be a good one." Mulder infused his voice with what he hoped was just the right amount of boredom. 

"Poor you...so boring." Krycek was still husky, and Mulder was frantically wondering if he'd go for a threesome, and quickly reconsidered. He rather thought that Bessie's satin skin looked better on her than on a lampshade. "Maybe I'll come and join you tonight...console you." 

Mulder's stomach appeared suddenly to have moved several inches to the right without prior warning. His mouth went dry. "Some interesting papers... we could be discussing them 'til late... I wouldn't want to keep you hanging around." 

Krycek's voice seemed somehow less caressing, and rather more sinister. "You sound preoccupied, Mulder. You don't want me to come and ... play?" 

"I may have to do some social stuff, too. You know how it is?" He grinned at Bessie. His plans for social stuff were getting more and more interesting as his mind raced. "But we could get together another day when I won't be tied up." Visions of Bessie in black leather bustier and thigh boots, standing over him as he lay bound by silk scarves flooded his brain and made him twitch the wheel again. 

"You're gonna get it on with that plastic bimbo, aren't you?" There was a cold certainty in the statement that demanded an instant, truthful answer. Mulder's hesitation was all the proof that Alex needed. 

The response, when it arrived, was carefully neutral. "What makes you think that?" 

"You're groping her while driving." There was no hint of a question in Krycek's voice, no suggestion that he was guessing. The warm sweat trickling down Mulder's back froze, and he gazed wildly round for his lover, fixing the party of nuns driving alongside with a pop-eyed stare as he tried to discern Alex's features framed in one of the wimples. 

Mulder laughed feebly. The only groping so far has been initiated by Mucho, he thought, but suspected that Alex would find that all too believable. 

"You think that's funny?" hissed the assassin. 

"That would be irresponsible," said Mulder, attempting levity. "I'm a careful driver." 

"When did it ever stop you before?" retorted Krycek, racking his brain for the last occasion they'd driven anywhere together without someone's genitals having the benefit of fresh air. Well, there was that one time Mulder had given the little old lady in apartment 41 a ride and he'd had to sit in the back. Mulder had nearly crashed trying to watch him in the rear mirror as he crudely mimed a blowjob using a zucchini culled from the woman's shopping bag. "Yeah..." he mused. "I remember." 

"Stop imagining things," said Mulder tartly, unaware of where Krycek's mind had been wandering. We have Agent Mucho's paper to discuss and she's depending on my... input." 

"Sadly, that outfit of hers leaves nothing to the imagination," commented Alex, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Just in case, he'd installed bugs in Mucho's apartment as well, and had viewed with disbelief the lengthy preparations that she deemed necessary to present a perfect image to the world that morning. Mulder's heart stopped and he said faintly, "Hey... how do you know that?" 

"That's for me to know, and you to find out," came the reply. Somehow making Alex jealous didn't seem such fun anymore. Mulder wasn't sure if he had wanted to discover that Alex regarded him as his own private territory. The chill threat implicit in his next words stirred rebellion. "If you put your input anywhere near that bimbo, I'll chop it off and feed it to you." 

"I'll do what I want," answered Mulder. His voice was pleasant but he was clenching his teeth to hold back a stream of invective. Belatedly, it occurred to him that Krycek, who had little compunction in using any method to achieve his aims, might have actually witnessed the events in the car. "Are you spying on me?" he whispered angrily. 

Krycek picked up the defiance in Mulder's voice, but didn't stop to wonder if his possessiveness would drive Mulder into Bessie's arms. "I'm sure you will, Mulder, but you'd better be careful," he said silkily. "I'll see you later." 

It was a promise. It implied embarrassment, punishment, and Mulder saw red. "No... I'm busy," he snapped. Despite Bessie's presence, Alex was going to be told where to get off. "This is work." 

Krycek didn't give him the chance to argue. Saying, "Talk to you later, Mulder," he cut the connection. 

For a long moment Mulder sat, chewing on his bottom lip as he listened to the uncaringly impersonal tone humming in his ear, before putting his cell phone away. Scanning back over the conversation, he searched for proof that Krycek knew what had been going on in the car. Having considered each phrase he realized that what seemed like Alex's omniscience was more likely Fox Mulder's guiltiness. It was all just guesswork, for sure. 

He turned to Agent Mucho and smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that." 

"Is there a problem, Fox?" Bessie's tone was carefully neutral, and her alabaster forehead bore the faintest of creases as she waited for his answer. 

Mulder sighed. "I hope not." He tried for nonchalance, but merely succeeded in looking very worried. Alex wasn't someone one could just shove to one side and forget. He was going to have nightmares tonight. 

"You look a little concerned. Was it bad news?" Bessie's voice had lowered, and breathed intimately over him, stroking his ears like fur. He sighed again, too bad Alex had ruined his enjoyment in the whole thing. 

"Not your problem anyway. Just a colleague," Mulder mumbled, eyes fixed firmly on the road as he attempted to recapture the moment and failed miserably. 

Bessie reached out to pat him. "Oh, but I thought that we were friends. I hate to see a friend worried." 

Mulder smiled at her. She was really a very nice person, he reflected. "Put it out of your mind. I'd really like to get back to the reading." Defiantly, he held his hand out to her. 

In the car behind them, Krycek heard Mulder tell the bimbo that he was 'just a colleague', and his temper, frayed to begin with, suddenly shot through the roof. He ground his teeth and pictured himself carving his initials onto Mulder while the hapless Agent Mucho turned on a spit over a low fire. It didn't help at all. When Bessie went on the air again he punched the dash so hard that the knobs fell off the radio. 

Bessie was cooing at his lover again. "Well if I can help any way," she licked glossy red lips. "I'd love to try." With that, she returned her attention to Mulder's now very sweaty palm. "Oh, yes..." 

"It's left me a little tense," he croaked. "Your touch is so...soothing. What else can you see?" As he spoke, he wondered if she would see his imminent demise following his next meeting with Alex, but concluded that he was going to be safe when she didn't attempt to hurl herself screaming from the car. 

"You have a long life line," she continued. Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. Alex wasn't going to kill him yet then. He wondered if you could detect castration in the lines of the palm, but didn't ask. "There are several things that are significant on it... See, this line here?" She stroked it as she spoke. "This is your life line." 

Mulder attempted to peer at the line in question, and the car swerved. Muttering a muffled apology, he got the thing back on track. 

"Well, there are some really interesting relationships..." Bessie was still poring over his hand, and hadn't appeared to notice his deviation from the lane as he righted the car once more. 

"Yes?" He was still wondering how to frame the question about the possibility that he might lose his nuts some dark night. "Are they good for me, these relationships? I worry about some of my...friends." Krycek, listening to the whole conversation with steadily escalating fury, chose that moment to move up and sit on his tail. 

Bessie was turning Mulder's palm over in her hands. "You have three women in your life that motivate you. And then there are three men..." 

"You can tell all that...from my hand?" Mulder sounded impressed. "You're very talented." 

"It's all so fascinating." Bessie turned towards him, her huge eyes glowing with the enthusiasm of the fanatic. "I need your other hand. I could be far more specific... See, one woman is gone from your life, but her shadow lies over you." 

"We could get together later for a proper session in my room," said Mulder, as though the thought had only just popped into his head. 

Bessie smiled at him as though the thought was new to her as well. "Oh that would be very nice. We could do you a complete reading." 

Mulder had begun again to have visions of Bessie's bounty spread all over him. His grin spread. "Mmm, yes." He wriggled in his seat. 

"I've often thought that it would be fun to do you," she said, blandly, and Mulder grinned, squirming some more as the words kick started his imagination. Oh, boy! He was going to enjoy this weekend. 

If Mulder had been paying more attention to his driving, and less to his talented companion, and had happened to glance into his rear-view mirror, he would have been greeted with a frightening spectacle. Krycek's car was virtually welded to his rear fender, his face was contorted with rage, and if his blood wasn't boiling then it could only have been a fraction of a degree off. Alex could glimpse their profiles silhouetted against the windshield, he could see Bessie's full pouty mouth forming the words that trickled like hot lead into his ear, he could see Mulder's gorgeous lips responding, and suddenly it was unbearable. He wrenched the wheel to the left and tapped the gas-pedal, swinging his car into the lane alongside and drawing level with Mulder's. 

Glaring across at Mulder's car, he wondered how long it would take his lover to notice that he was observed. It was then he realized that Mulder only had one hand on the wheel, and the other was... lying in Agent Mucho's lap! There it was, plain as day, nestled cozily on the trollop's bare thighs as she stroked his palm and played with his fingers. Frantically he jabbed at the buttons on his cell phone and slapped it against his ear, muttering dire threats under his breath as he waited impatiently for Mulder to answer. 

Meanwhile, the banter between the two agents in the other car was progressing splendidly. Mulder had thrown himself right back into the sea of lust and was striking out boldly towards Bessie's inviting shores. Alex was again forgotten, sinking like a stone to the depths of his memory. "I'd like to get to know you better too..." he was assuring Agent Mucho warmly when the phone warbled at him once more. He regarded the intruding device with distaste, but knew he couldn't just ignore it. He grabbed the phone from the dash, thumbed the reply key and spat the word "Hello?" so fiercely into it that Krycek was left in no doubt at all who Mulder would rather be talking too. 

But the call had finally distracted him from Mucho's hypnotic charms and as he glanced round, surprised at how many miles had passed since he last registered his position, he noticed a strangely familiar person driving alongside. The head slowly turned and there was Alex's face, blank, cold, unmistakable. Mulder's guts seemed to drop right out of his belly and the air inside the car was solid, unbreathable. In a long groaning sigh he whispered, "Oh fuck..." as a squeaky voice jeered "I'd like to do you too," from his phone. 

Mulder blanched and gulped, taking the phone from his ear with a hand that shook so badly that he had to drop it into his lap and grip the wheel desperately while he tried to compose himself. A few seconds later, as he reached down to switch it off, there was a grinding crunch and the car jolted violently, swerving toward the curb. Mulder's mind was blank as he struggled with the steering. It was only when he realized Bessie's high pitched shrieks were directed beyond him at Krycek's car and saw the vicious grin stretching Alex's mouth that he understood the assassin had deliberately rammed them. 

He accelerated recklessly in an impulsive attempt to escape but Krycek easily kept pace with him. He watched in fascinated horror as Alex redialed, put his phone to his ear once more and smiled whimsically at him. 

Mulder knew that look, knew that when Alex was mad that was one of the worst expressions to see on his face. Meanwhile Agent Mucho was cowering in her seat, whimpering, staring like a petrified rabbit at the ugly scrape that marred the paint of the car alongside. "What the hell are you doing?" asked Mulder in an undertone, ashamed to hear a slight quiver in his voice. 

"Would you like me to do you now, Fox?" said Alex, in an unconvincing falsetto. 

"You lunatic," responded Mulder furiously. 

Krycek laughed nastily. "Gotta keep your attention somehow, don't I?" He twitched the steering wheel and swung his car to within a few inches of Mulder's before pulling back out to a safe distance, grinning bestially at the other's shocked face. 

"Stop this!" shouted Mulder hysterically, but there was a 'click' and 'hum'. Krycek had cut him off. He watched as the other man put the phone down with a flourish, straightened himself in his seat, adjusted his grip on the wheel and finally turned to Mulder with that calm, implacable smile. Krycek was settling in to take his revenge; he was as unstoppable as a tidal wave. 

Mulder gritted his teeth. It was fight or flee - no other way out. Turning to Agent Mucho he said, with a nervous smile, "Hang on, Bessie." 

She sat, wide-eyed, shivering, clutching the door handle in a death-grip, and nodded once, convulsively, as the other car wove in and out, teasing closer then retreating, each approach an opportunity for Alex's eyes to spike her and Mulder with a glance like a crystal shard. Mulder found himself breathing quickly, shallowly, and his hands grew slick, sweat-slimed with dreadful anticipation. 

There was a sickening thud and a squeal of metal. At last the torment was over. Bruised, but jolted back into action, Mulder registered the new assault and stamped on the gas pedal, pulling in front of Krycek and building the speed of the car to catch and force his way into a bunch of traffic up ahead. 

Bessie's voice quavered from alongside, "Fox... M-Mulder... what are you doing? Oh, please stop." 

But Mulder had almost forgotten her existence; he was running on instinct. Like a forest creature dodging through the trees with a ravenous predator on his tail, he was frantic to escape, to lose himself in the crowd of cars and trucks. Yet Alex remained behind, weaving easily through the maze with such sinuous grace it was obvious that Mulder would not be able to shake him. 

Bessie gripped his leg hard, digging in her nails, and shook it to get his attention. 

Mulder turned to her and stared blankly for a moment, blinking. Giving a shuddering sigh, he stuttered, "S-sorry Bessie." 

"Stop for a minute," she urged him, a hint of a sob in her voice. Putting her hands to her head she shut her eyes in concentration, visualizing the pattern of the tarot cards that she'd used the previous evening to research what lay in store for her weekend with Mulder. "I don't like this," she said slowly. "I didn't see it happening today." 

Mulder glanced at her in concern. She'd been dragged unwittingly into his relationship with Krycek and he'd really been a jerk to let her come on to him, knowing a murderer lurked in the wings. He slowed the car to keep pace with the other traffic and looked in the rear-view mirror to see if he could spot his angry lover. 

There he was, only two cars away, still on their track. 

"We've got a problem, Bessie," said Mulder grimly. "Hang on tight." They weren't going to shake Krycek on the freeway; they needed cover, buildings, maybe, or trees - somewhere to hide. He knew it would be better to confront Alex, to reason with him, but he suspected that he was beyond argument. Krycek had that serene air he displayed when he'd made up his mind to kill someone, someone like Agent Mucho, someone who stood between him and his goal. 

Bessie, by now frightened but still seductive as her bosom heaved in distress, was speaking, her voice somewhat more shrill than he had previously heard her. "Fox? Whatever's the matter?" 

Mulder considered coming clean with her, just for one moment, and then discarded the idea. Not only would it frighten the woman, it would totally blow his cover at work, and he wasn't ready yet for the sneers and jibes that would follow the revelation that he was not only fucking a man, but that the man with whom he was intimately involved had a habit of killing people for money. He groped for inspiration. 

"Um. There's this guy. I think he's..." He foundered. There were just not the words. 

Bessie waited for a harrowing minute or two, and then prompted him. "Is he a criminal seeking revenge?" 

"Er," he said, as he attempted to pick a way through the minefield of concepts that battered him. "I've upset him," he said, lamely. 

"Do you know what his palm prints look like?" Mulder heard the unlikely question, but it was a few seconds before he succeeded in processing it. If he'd been watching it on the TV, it would have been a genuinely funny moment. He sent up a brief prayer that he would live to sell the film rights. 

"Sorta." There's probably one on my ass somewhere, he thought to himself. 

"We should call the police," said Bessie, reaching for the discarded cell phone. "We're federal agents. We can't let some penny-ante felon put us in jeopardy." 

"The police wouldn't be a good idea," he muttered, imagining heaps of dead and dying strewn around the freeway, his own sightless corpse perched on the top like a cherry on a cupcake. "It's sorta my fault," he added with a guilty expression on his face. "I'll try and lose him." He spotted a turning and swerved down it with a squeal of tires. 

Bessie had her phone out by now. She tried to dial out but found herself on hold. The whites of her eyes were showing, and she had completely lost her placid appearance. "Oh, no," she squeaked. "No, you shouldn't." 

Mulder wasn't listening. Like the wild antelope, his only thought was to run and run until the predator was left behind. "It'll be OK. He may not spot us," he said. Inside his head he knew that he was merely staving off the inevitable. Sure enough, a glance through his rear window showed him that Krycek had pulled off after him, and was now in hot pursuit. 

Mulder's breath quickened and he put his foot flat to the floor as he attempted to stave off what now seemed to be inevitable. It was to no avail. The car behind accelerated smoothly, and suddenly crashed into them with great force. 

"Fuck!" Mulder howled. 

"F-fox..." Bessie's voice was a moan of fear. Mulder glanced at her, before grimly applying himself to the task of staying on the road. "Are you OK?" 

"What are we going to do?" she wailed. 

Mulder groaned, and then passed her his phone, giving her Krycek's number. She dialed, unsure of just what she was getting herself into. 

"H-hello?" 

Mulder glanced at Krycek through his rear view mirror and quailed at the expression he saw. The other man was right on his tail, and the smile on his face was nothing short of feral. He looked at the phone in Bessie's hand, and grabbed for it. 

"Give it to me, please." He took a deep breath to compose himself and yelled at his tormentor. "Damn, stop this. You're frightening Bessie." 

Krycek, bland voiced and irritating, drawled his response. "Not sure what you mean, Mulder. Didn't you want to make me jealous?" 

"You've no right to tell me what to do, or who to do it with," yelled Mulder into the phone. 

"No, I don't." The husky voice sounded amused. "And you don't have the right to tell me what to do either." 

Mulder by now had completely forgotten that Bessie was listening, and was working up to blasting his lover with his extensive vocabulary of insults. "Maybe not...unless you're trying to kill me!" He winced as the car behind him drew even closer. "It's all in your fucking suspicious mind!" 

"You think?" Krycek's voice was starting to infuriate Mulder. He wasn't sure why he'd ever thought that it was sexy. "I think that it's all in yours." He put his foot down, and rammed the back of Mulder's car again. This time there was a squeal from somewhere within the engine, and Bessie screamed, a sound that drove through Mulder's head like a red hot skewer. Mulder yelped, and threw the phone out of the window. 

Bessie had gripped Mulder's arm with talons that seemed to be cutting off his circulation. He was starting to wonder if there was anyone left in the world that he would find attractive. "Mulder? Who...what?" 

"I'm sorry, Bessie, I've got you caught up in something that's not your problem." He accelerated grimly, and the woman beside him tightened her grip, piercing him with the nails that he'd imagined caressing him earlier. The road had narrowed quite suddenly, and as Krycek drew alongside him once more he had an urge to bail out. 

He floored the accelerator. 

"For goodness sake, Fox. Can't you just stop?" It was plain that Bessie was starting to become annoyed on her own behalf. Mulder, worried about what would happen if he actually did, and furiously angry as well, twisted the wheel and nudged Krycek's car. 

"He'll give up I expect," he announced in a calm manner that he was very far from feeling. It was plain that he didn't actually believe this, and Bessie opened her eyes wide. In the other car, Krycek looked at Mulder in blank amazement. The next moment he had turned his own steering wheel to smack Mulder's car really hard. 

Mulder glared at Krycek, determined to give him a taste of his own medicine. He'd had enough of Krycek's cat and mouse games, and he was damned if he was going to be Alex's victim any more today. He flipped him the bird, wrestling with the wheel to keep control of the lurching vehicle. All to no avail, Mulder wasn't going to get to play bumper cars this time, his steering was badly damaged and despite his efforts, the car was weaving all over the narrow road. 

After his initial surprise Krycek found he was rather pleased that Mulder was getting into the spirit of the occasion. He bared his teeth, and concentrated on his next maneuver. Just a tap, and let's see what he does next, thought Alex. Once again he swung across and hit the other car, hoping to extend the fun for a few more miles. Sadly, what he'd assumed was Mulder's inept driving was really the result of a bent tie-rod and Mulder couldn't recover his course. 

With a bound and a screech from the brakes, and from Bessie, the car leapt off the road and careered off down the hill, flattening an assortment of innocent bushes. A wheel ran into a large pothole and the car's momentum flipped them over. They came to rest upside down, and Mulder, shocked out of his wits, watched his own hand reach out and switch off the ignition. All was silent. 

Krycek parked and jumped out of his car, ran to the edge of the slope and looked in horror at the wreck. He slithered down the bank, narrowly keeping his balance. A knot of anxiety constricted his gut as he realized his uncontrollable temper could have killed his beloved G-man. He strode to where the car was lying, underbelly on show, its tires still slowly spinning, and bent down to peer through the shattered windshield, half-dreading the carnage that might greet him. Instead there were merely a pair of inverted FBI agents, looking stunned, but intact, thanks to the wonders of modern safety devices. 

Mulder blinked stupidly at Alex. Something didn't seem right... why was Alex the wrong way up? He'd been on the road... he remembered that, then Alex's car had hit them again, and everything else was a blur. He looked over at Agent Mucho. She didn't look quite right either. Surely her hair didn't usually stand straight up from her head like that? He fumbled to undo his seat-belt as Krycek reached in, took his hair in a firm grip, and turned his head from side to side, looking for injuries. Mulder gave a soft whimper and batted ineffectually at Krycek's hand, finally focusing on his lover. His blank expression slowly changed to one of anger and he screamed, "Let go of me! Haven't you done enough damage, you fucking maniac?" 

He struggled to release himself from the seatbelt, becoming increasingly frantic as the buckle would not budge and the tight strap wouldn't loosen enough for him to wriggle out. Krycek, seeing that Mulder's injuries didn't seem to have affected his mood, or his mobility, decided that a confrontation with Mulder in inverted mode would be totally unsatisfactory for the hands-on encounter he had in mind. 

It was obvious to him what the problem with the seatbelt was... it was merely performing its function, doing the job it was designed to do. It wasn't going to undo, it was determined to keep Mulder safe, and would have to be induced to let him go. Krycek reached inside his jacket, and suddenly an extraordinarily sharp and excessively large knife appeared within an inch of Mulder's nose. Mulder flinched, and the whites of his eyes were plainly visible as the blade disappeared down towards his midriff. He swallowed convulsively and clamped his thighs together. 

Alex smiled sweetly at his lover and Mulder felt his hands at his waist, groping for something. He tried, totally unsuccessfully, to roll himself into a ball, when suddenly there was a harsh ripping noise, the seat-belt was gone and Mulder fell, with a thump and a startled cry, onto the car ceiling. 

He lay for a moment, disoriented, his knees around his ears, and then the gravelly, detestable tones of his lover reached him. 

"Okay. Get out." He didn't move. His mind seemed to have seized up completely and all he could think of to do was to cower. "Come on. Now." The hand reached to seize his hair again and he could do nothing but crawl out of the broken window to sit on the ground, completely stunned, and hug himself as he looked at Krycek, for all the world like a guilty puppy. 

For a moment, nothing was said as the two men looked at each other, then Krycek reached out and hooked Mulder's collar, hauled him up and dragged him away from the vehicle. 

"You bastard!" Mulder's voice was faint, but unfortunately clear. Krycek growled, grabbed Mulder's tie and jerked him in. The two now stood nose to nose, and Mulder shoved at Krycek ineffectually. 

"Let go!" Mulder howled. Krycek snickered, and then pulled him close, kissing him. Mulder, with the consistent lack of judgement he had displayed from the very start of the encounter, chose that moment to be altruistic. 

"Bessie could be hurt. We need an ambulance." Even as the words were out of his mouth, he realised his error. Krycek licked once at the trace of blood in the corner of Mulder's mouth, and snarled. 

"Fuck Bessie!" Within the next few seconds he had ripped Mulder's shirt open. 

Within the body of the car, poor Bessie, dazed and confused though she was, had finally managed to release her own seat belt, and, having found her cell phone, had dialed Skinner's number. 

Mulder, shocked and wobbly, wasn't aware of anything but his furious beloved. He was still attempting to ward off Krycek's grabbing hands. 

"What the hell are you doing, Alex?" Krycek was systematically tearing Mulder's clothing as he backed Mulder up towards the nearby trees. 

"You... You bastard. You're mine." Krycek seemed to be in the grip of very powerful emotions. His hands were everywhere, and Mulder was doing a very poor job of fighting back. "Do you understand?" 

"I understand you okay," Mulder snorted, attempting once more to avoid being herded in the direction that Alex was shoving him. 

Krycek ripped at the fastening to Mulder's pants, and grabbed Mulder again, clutching the G-man to his body as he wrenched at the fabric of his trousers. 

"Mine," he gritted. 

"Stop," whispered Mulder, beyond scared now. He attempted to pull back as Krycek neatly reversed him into a tree, pinning him there. Moments later, Mulder felt Krycek's mouth descend on his to invade and plunder it. For a second he gave himself to the kiss, his excitement far outweighing his embarrassment, and then he suddenly recollected his whereabouts. Shit! Bessie! 

"Not here!" he cried, his voice a plea rather than a demand. Krycek's smile in response was the kind that would curdle milk. 

"Why should I listen to you? You never do what I ask." Utterly reasonable, Krycek was completely in charge. "This time, you're mine." 

"Christ, Bessie's watching. Let go. You wouldn't... " Mulder's voice was stronger now, and as she heard her name, Bessie turned, searching out the origin of the voice. When she saw what was happening she assumed that Mulder was in trouble and turned back to the car in search of her gun. 

Krycek had pinned Mulder up against a tree trunk, and was now browsing over his neck while his hands finally succeeded in getting Mulder's pants open. A further yank caused a horrendous tearing sound, and the trousers, once proud Armani, suddenly became rags. Krycek tossed huge pieces of silk over his shoulder and renewed his onslaught. Mulder, who had been attempting to save his clothing, slumped. There seemed to be little point now in trying to keep his dignity. He made a last ditch attempt. 

"Not in front of her," he begged, plaintively. 

Krycek snorted. "Why not? She'll take notes." He spun the anguished agent around. 

"This is virtually rape, Alex." 

Krycek said nothing, merely leaning into him. Mulder could plainly feel the other man's excitement. He attempted to wriggle free, but only succeeded in nestling Krycek's impressive erection neatly between his silk-covered buttocks. "Fuck...let me go, " he pleaded. 

Krycek rubbed himself insistently against the firm inviting ass that cushioned him from the rough tree-trunk with which Mulder's dick was becoming all too familiar. "You're mine, Fox," he breathed into Mulder's reluctant ear. "What's the matter with you?" 

Mulder couldn't think of a suitable answer off the cuff. "I... she..." 

"Fuck her." 

Mulder glanced round, peering past Krycek's shoulder at the wreckage of his car, and at Bessie, who was staring wide-eyed at the action, her gun hanging limply from her hand. He squeezed his eyes shut in horror and made a final appeal, hoping that Krycek would prove to have a previously undiscovered better nature. "Damn... not in front of a colleague. They'll all know. And what about Scully?" There was a sudden draft on his behind as his underwear disappeared with a rending sound. He sobbed, "Shit, please Alex!" 

"Why the hell should I care?" Alex snapped. "You're mine. They all ought to know." 

Turning Mulder round again he wrapped his arms around his distraught lover and stared deep into his frightened eyes. Mulder, shocked and weakened from the crash, and from Krycek's onslaught, felt as fragile as a tiny bird in Krycek's grip. His naked body was tingling where it chafed against Alex's jacket and the rough cloth of his jeans, the air was full of the smell of Alex's fury and his lust, and those green eyes engulfed him as if he were the center of Alex's universe. He felt himself melting, surrendering, and he lay back in his lover's embrace, offering his neck to Alex's mouth and shutting his eyes against the truth of his situation. 

Alex ran his tongue over the taut skin offered to him and swirled it round Mulder's ear, groaning in pleasure at his sweet victory as he felt Mulder relax in his arms. Mulder's full lips were parted and he took them next, feeling his kiss eagerly returned by the defeated agent. As he smoothed his hands over Mulder's back and ass, Mulder undulated against him, his body blissfully savoring the strength and hardness of his conqueror. 

Krycek laid his hands lightly on Mulder's shoulders and waited until he had his attention once more. Mulder slowly recovered his equilibrium, and opened his eyes to see Alex's commanding gaze. Swallowing hard, he resolutely tried to recall all the arguments against his next action. Somehow nothing seemed important any more, nothing but Alex, nothing but his own desire. He sank slowly to his knees under the gentle pressure of Alex's hands, and watched for his lover to guide him. 

Alex looked down at him with slitted eyes, a smug smile celebrating his victory. He ripped open his pants, and an instant later was behind Mulder, chest to back, his hands wandering from Mulder's heated groin, to his thighs, and round to clutch at his firm buttocks, easing him forward and working his legs apart until he had the other man sprawled wantonly open across a low hummock. 

Mulder found he had his eyes squeezed tight shut again, futilely hoping that if he couldn't see Agent Mucho, somehow he would become invisible to her, too. Maybe, in some universe, somewhere, the ostriches had it right. "Damn, Krycek," he sobbed, angry at himself for his own weakness, "You can't do this..." 

He felt Krycek's hands fondling his cock possessively, urging slick drops of pre-come from the head as Alex's stiff cock nudged and butted at his crack. "Try me," growled his lover, licking and biting at the muscles which roiled under the smooth skin of his shoulders. Alex flooded his senses; he gasped for air as the need for Alex overwhelmed him and, twisting his head, he finally opened his eyes to glimpse the face of his obsession. "Kiss me," he implored, moaning and writhing in bliss when he felt Alex's lips against his neck. 

Krycek was functioning on automatic now. He spat on his fingers and began to apply saliva between Mulder's cheeks, fingers pressing in hard as he eased his way inside. Mulder wriggled wantonly, and spread himself wide to facilitate Krycek's access. 

"UH!" Alex's cock was forcing its way inside him, stretching him until he burned. Mulder groaned, arching his neck back as he searched for Alex's lips. Alex was completely overcome, and his mouth found Mulder's as though by instinct. With a curse, Alex thrust his tongue deep into Mulder's mouth as his dick entered the other end. 

Mulder returned the kiss avidly even though he would much rather have remained aloof. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the sick feeling that his secret desires were now going to be revealed to everyone, and that he was going to have to move to an uninhabited island to live the whole thing down, but along with the despair it engendered was the knowledge that his insides were melting with desire as Alex invaded his body. He struggled again, a tiny, brief flare of resistance, and then gave in to the growing sensations as Alex began to move inside him. 

"Damn," gasped Mulder as he finally surfaced for air. "That's good. Oh, god, Alex." Krycek's fingers dug into Mulder's hips, pulling him in against his body as he moved against Mulder, and Mulder reached to pull his hand round, placing it on his own cock, to prompt him. 

"Mine, Mulder... You hear me?" Krycek's question was punctuated by sharp pulls on his flesh. A quick look over his shoulder told Alex that Bessie was watching the action, glossy lips apart and bosom heaving with some indefinable emotion. He snickered in Mulder's ear. 

"Y-yes..." Mulder stammered, faintly. "Always..." 

"Bessie's watching... Licking her lips..." 

"Harder, Alex..." moaned Mulder, totally beyond caring by this point. Somehow, the knowledge that his shame was being witnessed seemed to increase the pleasure, and for the moment, Mulder was lost in sensation. He wasn't aware that Bessie's phone call to Skinner had borne fruit, that at that very moment AD Skinner's car had just pulled up, and that Skinner and Scully were climbing out. 

Skinner, spotting the car that lay down in the hollow below, ran down to see what help he could give and caught sight of Bessie, who was sitting on the grass close to the wreck. He moved to offer her assistance, astonished as she waved him away, shushing him with rapid movements. At that point, he became aware of the two men that held her attention. He froze, jaw on his chest. 

Mulder was thrusting back against Alex now, moaning, "It's so good," as he approached climax. Somehow the two men seemed to have postponed their quarrel, at least temporarily. 

"Jesus, Fox. I love you too fucking much for all of this..." Besides, thought Alex, I'm going to need to buy a set of kneepads if it becomes a regular occurrence. 

"Mmm...uhh!" grunted Mulder, totally beyond words. Krycek's hand worked faster on Mulder's cock as he felt it pulsing. 

"Come on. Come for me... Come for me..." 

Mulder, for once, did as he was told. 

"God... do it..." He gripped Krycek's hand with his own, squeezing it as he came, yelling Alex's name. Mulder slumped, and Krycek's movements became more and more intense as he thrust for home. At last he stiffened, coming hard, as he bit the back of Mulder's neck. 

"Ah... God..." He subsided gently onto Mulder, overbalancing him and causing him to pitch forward onto the piles of leaf mold that were strewn around the tree. Mulder tried to twist around and kiss Krycek, but this time his lover's face was buried in the small of his back as he tried to regain his breath. 

Skinner had now coaxed Bessie to her feet, and was attempting to persuade Scully to check her over for injuries that she might not be aware of. Scully was standing mesmerized as she caught sight of the drama that was being played out on the rough grass further from the road.. 

Mulder had rolled to sitting, and was attempting to recapture his scattered wits. "That was the greatest ever... I love you, Alex," he mumbled as the aftershocks flickered through his system. All of a sudden he spotted the new arrivals, and his mouth went dry. 

Krycek was affectionately nuzzling Mulder's neck, contented for a while just to be with him, and wondering whether he should just let the Bessie incident fade. 

"I love you," he whispered, and was about to expand on just how much when he felt Mulder tense and make a grab for the torn boxers that were tangled around his ankles. 

"Shit!" whispered Mulder, horrified. 

"What?" mumbled Alex against the soft skin his lips were kissing. He looked up and blinked, wishing that teleportation were a reality. "Oh, fuck!" 

Mulder whispered urgently, "Beat it, Alex, we've got company." 

Krycek ducked down behind his lover. He'd spotted Scully rooting in her purse and knew that she wasn't looking for her comb. He tucked himself frantically back into his jeans and zipped up. "Jesus, Fox," he hissed, looking around to make sure there weren't any more FBI agents watching the floorshow. "Come with me?" 

"I... can't," he replied, wishing with all his heart he could. Krycek jumped to his feet, keeping his face averted and sprinted for the trees that masked his car from the site of the wreck. 

Scully finally extracted her gun from the bowels of her capacious purse and shrieked, "Freeze, FBI!" in tones that easily rivalled Bessie's, and then she stepped forward purposefully. Mulder clapped his hands over his ears in pain and leapt to his feet, determined to prevent Alex's imminent demise, forgetting that his underwear was still round his knees. He pitched forward, bowling the hapless Scully over and the two agents, arms and legs flailing, came to rest at Skinner's feet. 

There was a stunned silence, suddenly broken by the sound of a racing engine and a screech of tires, as Alex abandoned Mulder to his fate. 

Mulder looked up at Skinner and gulped. Skinner looked down at Mulder's bare buttocks and frowned. Nothing in FBI protocol had prepared him for this kind of managerial crisis. From beneath Mulder came a low growling. Mulder looked down. Scully looked up, trying to blow the hair from her face so that she could deliver her most chilling glare. "Maybe you would like to move," she said in deceptively mild tones, "You're squashing me." 

He rolled off her, tugging his shirt down to preserve what little modesty remained to him. Skinner picked up a handful of discarded clothing and handed it to his blushing subordinate with a curt command to cover himself. Mulder gathered the rags into his lap, and, using them as a screen, wriggled into his boxers. 

Scully got to her feet and dusted herself down, retrieved her gun and headed for the woods in a pointless search of the fugitive, but was called back by Skinner to look over Mulder and Agent Mucho for injuries. She squatted down beside her partner, puzzling over what she'd seen. "Mulder, what's going on? What happened here?" 

Mulder searched a suddenly blank mind for inspiration. Even the power of speech seemed to desert him as he groped to explain the inexplicable. He just needed a short delay, a little time to gather his thoughts before dealing with this. "I.. I can explain, Scully," he said, optimistically, praying for divine guidance. 

Skinner, falling back on regulations, snapped, "I shall need a written explanation from you, Agent Mulder." 

"I can't write this down," blurted Mulder. 

Scully looked down at the tatters of Mulder's Armani suit, and a horrible suspicion bobbed to the surface. "Mulder, were you... raped?" she asked quietly. 

Mulder stared at her, goggle-eyed, visualising the scene as it must appear to the others, and breathed, "Oh shit..." 

Mulder couldn't see any way out of this situation, short of a miracle. "Er..." he said, constructively. And there's Bessie, he suddenly remembered. What the hell is she going to say about all this? He looked over at her. She was busily searching his luggage and as he sat, trying to look too shocked and bewildered to be capable of answering further questions, she returned, triumphantly bearing a spare pair of pants. Mulder took them with a grateful smile, and pulled them on. 

Scully still knelt beside him, searching him for signs of shock, and as Bessie handed him the trousers, she favored the hapless junior with a frigid stare and placed a maternal hand on Mulder's brow. 

Mulder twitched. He cast a pleading look at Bessie, and took a deep breath. 

"It wasn't exactly rape, Scully," he heard himself say. 

Bessie appeared to be experiencing some powerful emotions at this point. She stood, her huge eyes fixed on Mulder as she attempted to divine what he wanted her to say. Her bosom was barely under control, and it was obvious to all that her clairvoyance had for once abandoned her. 

Scully attempted to call him back. It seemed as though her patience was wearing a little thin. "Mulder? Not exactly?" she prompted, her teeth gritted. 

Mulder smiled sheepishly, and hoped that boyish good looks would be enough to carry him through this. "Um... maybe I owe you an explanation," he said, somewhat unnecessarily. 

"Who was that?" asked Scully, beginning to smell a rat... 

"Didn't you see, Scully?" Mulder perked up, suddenly seeing a way out, and hopeful that Krycek hadn't been recognized by anyone. 

"Not clearly," she replied, and her brow furrowed as she attempted to interpret Mulder's apparent relief. "But he shouldn't be too hard to identify." An idea occurred to her. "Agent Mucho here saw him quite clearly." Bessie blinked, and shot a glance at Mulder, one eyebrow delicately raised in inquiry. 

Mulder bit the bullet. "It was someone I know." 

"You know this man?" Scully asked, for a moment wondering if she had imagined his words. "But Mulder... What are you saying?" 

Mulder had launched into full confessional mode. Guilt oiled the passage of words that he was sure that he would later regret. "It was sorta my fault. I've been playing stupid games and he's ...volatile." He took a deep breath and fixed Skinner with an anguished look. "Can we save this for later?" 

Scully soldiered on, determined to suck the hapless Mulder dry of all information. "Are you going to press charges, Mulder?" She glared at him, as though attempting to hypnotise him into revealing the mystery man. 

"I... can't," he said, firmly. A sudden, selfless notion popped into his mind. "But Bessie... she's been put in danger." He turned to look at her, quizzically. 

Skinner was floundering. "I don't understand," he said, ponderously. "Are you saying that you are in some kind of relationship with this... man. Who is he?" It was plain that the Assistant Director was not only uncomfortable, but that he was actively baffled at the idea that Mulder had succeeded in forming a relationship with any human being. 

"Oh damn!" Mulder wondered if he should take to his heels at this point, and reluctantly decided to stand his ground, instead looking to Bessie in mute appeal. 

Bessie's pale complexion was suddenly suffused with a rosy glow as she reflected on the events she'd recently witnessed. "I wouldn't have missed that for the world." she grinned, unrepentantly. "It was hot." Her eyes swept over Scully, who seemed at that moment to have something stuck in her throat. 

Mulder suppressed the urge to laugh out loud, and merely grinned at Bessie. He'd already known that she was cute, and now he knew that she was cool as well. "Thanks, Bessie," he said, fervently. Scully glared at her, impotently. Bessie smiled sweetly, and continued to address Mulder. 

"Did I tell you I saw a tall, dark, handsome stranger in your palm?" 

"That was the one, Bessie," grinned Mulder. "Do you want to press charges? Because if not, I don't think I'll say any more." Scully's exasperated sigh was clearly audible in the quiet. Skinner shrugged, and turned to begin the task of collecting all the baggage that had been strewn around the scene of the accident. 

"What would I press? Your driving?" asked Bessie, somewhat pointedly. Mulder groaned a little at that, and she continued. "I don't think I'm going to press charges. Maybe you and he could come over one night for a... reading?" 

Mulder couldn't believe his luck. "Are you sure?" he asked, almost hyperventilating with relief. "He might take a bit of calming down, but I'd like to get his palm read to see if there are any Federal agents in it." 

Bessie, about to launch into her favorite subject once again, clasped her hands to her bosom and her eyes shone. "I see it in your future, Fox," she murmured. 

Together, they began to make their way up the bank. 

Fin 

  
Archived: June 02, 2001 


End file.
